


Summit of Amalgams

by WickedDecay



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bellow, Blue Diamond Mermaid, F/F, Mythical Animals and Beasts, Set in Medieval times, White Diamond Harpy, Yellow Diamond Centaur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:31:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 80,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedDecay/pseuds/WickedDecay
Summary: Humans are growing bolder in their attempts to wipe her and her people off the face of the earth. If it had not been for the necessity of breeding, she and her kind would have stayed beneath the waves where they belonged. But their eggs need air and sandy beaches, their mothers nestled up top and patient. They need help in protecting themselves in their most vulnerable of states. Neela, queen of her mermaids and mermen, invokes the help of another breed for assistance. They meet for the first time and almost as soon as the sun casts its glow, she is love struck.*** Posted image of Marigold and Neela on Chapter 6 ***





	1. The horse that came when you called

**Author's Note:**

> Characters:  
> \- Blue Diamond – Queen Neela  
> \- Yellow Diamond – Chief Marigold, Marigold Knight  
> \- White Diamond – Empress Blanka  
> \- Blue Pearl - Lola  
> \- Yellow Pearl – Eva Tempest  
> \- Holly Blue Agate - Holly  
> \- Yellow Agate – Hildegard and Hiltrude Gisil  
> \- Pink Diamond – Queen Primrose
> 
> Courts:  
> \- Blue Diamond’s court – Mermaids and mermen  
> \- Yellow Diamond’s court - Centaurs  
> \- Pink Diamond’s court - Dwarves  
> \- White Diamond’s court – Harpies
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Humans are the enemy  
> \- Mermaids and men can live above water, they come on land to breed and lay their eggs, though courtship is performed underwater and above. They wear sea glass and shells and elegant clothing woven from the hair of beasts.  
> \- In the West, full of mountains and spanning flat lands, live the centaurs. They are known for their fighting prowess and strength. They earn the right to do anything within their tribe and clan through fighting. They are almost always wearing armor and the pelts of their kills.  
> \- To the North, hidden in the mountains are the Harpies, they live secluded from everyone else and believe everyone is inferior to them for they can fly. They covet previous items such as gold and diamonds.  
> \- Blue will fall for Marigold almost instantly. Bellow story I don’t care if you don’t like.  
> \- This will be short however if it is liked I will expand. Also, to that note, Pink Diamond will most likely make an appearance in the second part of this story if I choose to continue it beyond the scope of what this part of the tale describes.  
> \- Also, please forgive any spelling mistakes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, this whole thing is purely for fun.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Chapter 1  
The horse that came when you called

Despite the reassuring touch of sunlight across her scales, the blazing star ascending into the sky much like a swollen bird at the caw of day, Neela could only feel trepidation towards her current life choices. 

Unknowing of her plight, or perhaps even unfeeling towards her mortal dilemma, the orb of light continued its ascension. Regal, poised and bursting with colour, it shone with the heat and splendor befitting the source of all light across their mortal coil. Hues of deep red, crimson as they were brilliant, weaving with succulent oranges and brilliant yellows, stretched out like greedy fingers, chasing the coattails of darkness away. The stars, much to her chagrin, had long since winked out of sight, not matter how hard or how long she started at the opposite horizon. Only deep, almost impenetrable, blues greeted her sad expression, the moon barely a flicker of light as it descended somewhere beyond an ocean of trees and glorious standing mountains.

Hands fiddling with the shawl draped across her slender naked shoulders, Neela struggled to smother the feeling of despair that was gradually becoming more uncomfortable as time leisurely crawled by. 

It had been nothing but a petty trifle when she had effortlessly crawled out of her waters and slithered across the sands between stones and shattered sea shells. It was only an afterthought, a problem that could easily, and was for a time, effortlessly crushed beneath the very will of her thoughts. Yet, as the creatures of day started to stir, and the light banished the darkness away, her cover was all but slipping between her fingers and fins. Now, with no glimmering stars and moonlit beaches to hide her luminous body, she looked as she felt, a beached whale, heartbreakingly easy to spot.

It ached and burned, as if her scales had decided to peel and shed, yet there was nothing she could do to relieve the tension as it continued to build and fester. A part of her wanted to forget the whole plan and disappear into the waves again. She could always move her colony, there were many beaches to claim and only so many humans. There short lives would end soon enough and maybe just maybe, they could return when age had won the war for her.

She flinched hard as though she had been physically stuck.

Such cowardice.

Disgusted by her own thoughts, Neela shook her head violently, as if to toss them clean out of her head. Her long silver hair fluttered like a storm around her head, shimmering and bright, obscuring her vision of this unfamiliar territory and for a moment, she let them hang. They were a curtain, blocking a world she no longer wished to see or be a part of.

Then the logical part of her kicked in with about as much subtlety as bull through a vendor stall and she imaged she must look utterly ridiculous. Sighing heavily, she urged her hair back into place, behind her shoulders and down her back, her bangs carefully rearranged over her forehead. Doing one last check to make sure none of her decorated clips, some sporting starfish and others sea shells, had fallen out, she took a moment to actually observe her current residence.

The ancient stone that had been a fortress to another mystical breed long since forgotten, was the arranged meeting place for her and the leader of centaurs. 

It had been by the word of the chief that this place had been picked. Hand chosen for several reasons, some, but not all, privy to her. It was far from human settlement, first and foremost. Its location at least three days ride by horseback and according to the note by the centaur chieftain, the landscape was wild and naturally uneven, dangerous. The woodlands and ragged, pillar like rock formations, behaved much like a natural fence and made accessibility difficult for even the most skilled adventurer to cross.

Another reason was how old the location was. Much of its existence long forgotten and overlooked by human maps.

Thus, the structure, or what was left of it was left in ruins, forcibly tumbled askew by time and weather.

Obviously, the water had not been as high as it was when this monument, she now defiled with her presence, had been erected. Much of it was submerged, she had passed sections of pillar and ceiling before breeching the water’s surface. Whether or not the race had been present for much of its destruction was left unanswered, at least from a visual standpoint. There were no signs of war or battle, nothing to show it had been overtaken by force. If anything, it looks as if those that had built it, decided to simply leave it for the elements to judge its fate. 

What was left of the architecture, standing or otherwise, was decorated in the most intricate patterns Neela had every seen. Each stone section clearly depicting stories of elaborate events prior and after its creation. Unfortunately, devastating fractures and broken pieces, took away much of that history. Most likely having be long since taken by the tide. The merqueen saw images of war, prosperity and animals that were too weirdly contorted to be anything less than a hybrid, much like herself. They were clearly at odds with one another but due to the damage, Neela was confused as to which side the stone murals were favouring.

The ugliness and repulsion in the silhouettes of the monsters seemed to point towards human interpretation.

Had this once been a human residence?

The very idea made the merqueen want to jump out of her scales and vomit, a disgusting itch crawling up her spine from her where her scales touched weathered stone.

Still, it was secluded enough, and if this had been a human domicile at one point or another, it clearly had been abandoned for years. There was not even a trace of their footsteps, only those of the wild that had gradually taken their landscape back, one season at a time. What’s more, a fence of trees encircled the area a few miles away, dense and wild, too untamed for man to even try and conquer just yet. A field of grass, thick and unruly, lay as the obstacle between the forest line and the coast of the beach. Sections of the structure were sprawled everywhere within this lush and had been overtaken by crawling vines whilst others became foundations for trees.

It had taken almost three days to arrive at the location, so it assured her, at the very least, that the dwelling was indeed far way from human intervention.

It was everything she could have wanted and more. 

The merqueen felt secure in its position, the assurance that it had not be recently treaded by human foot, but still, Neela felt exposed to something. She wondered, gazing intently at the forest line as deer grazed peacefully and uncaring of her presence, if something other then man lingered and watched. 

If there was something else, she should be fearful beyond the obvious threat that was human beings.

Many things would look to her as an easy meal.

The mermaid Queen also had to wonder if perhaps this location served another purpose altogether for the chief of centaurs and if she had been stupid enough to wander willingly into a trap.

Humans were the common enemy to all mystical folk; this was far from new or ground-breaking. Humans feared what they did not understand, or anything that looked remotely different from themselves. This hatred of all things different and in their mind, ugly and unholy, forced many different breeds of mythical folk to band together. 

Strength in numbers after all.

Yet, there were some, like the harpies that rested in the snow-capped peaks of the mountains in the north, that would rather watch others of their kind die. 

Her mother had assured her, long, long ago, that most mystical beasts would have eagerly jumped at the chance to help one another in times of great need. She had often told her daughter of great battles, beast shoulder to shoulder with beast, storming the camps and villages of the human scourge. All shapes and sizes, from all corners of the world, pushing back the forces of man and their machines of war. 

However, those were times long since passed and much had happened since then.

Many of the oldest species of beast were dead and gone, some having retreaded so far into obscurity that not a soul could be sure if they still breathed or had been wiped clean from this earth. Dragons were one such creature and unfortunately only their lesser cousins remained. Those with either no wings but legs, or the reverse, that could not speak and resorted to violence at the first signs of trouble. Some could not even breathe fire and relied on magic that was stretched much too thin from inbreeding in a dire attempt to preserve the species.

They were stupid and full of rage, at least that’s what the stories used to say. Nothing at all like the riddle weaving and labyrinth stalking beasts most immediately though of when asked about dragons. 

She often wondered if there were any left, if they had simply felt to a place no mere mortal could ever reach.

Movement at her sides caused Neela to glance down, immediately finding her little companion waiting patiently and still at her side. The motion had been to flex her fin, having nicked it a while back on a trap a human had left abandoned and forgotten along the ocean floor. It had healed rather nicely and seemed to not falter her swimming ability, which gave Neela a sense of peace.

Unlike Neela, her companion was a water sprite, a smaller version of a mermaid that could fit quite snuggly into the palm of her hand. They were eager servants to her aquatic family for centuries and relied heavily on them for protection against predators that would find them an easy snack. In exchange, they would weave delicate clothing from all manner of materials, making garments that could last the test of ocean water. They also made fantastic companions in healing wounds, for their magic was still strong despite the ages.

She served as her closest friend and pet.

Neela could remember her mother saying that at one point that mermaids and mermen had actually possessed a talent for magic, but that had been centuries ago. An old wife’s tale at best from her own grandmother before her own death.

Unlike Neela, whom possessed dark tanned skin, without mark or blemish, her little water sprite Lola, was covered in a cerulean hue that sparkled and flickered green within the light of the sun. Her tail was longer, more like a whip, with far more fins attaching from all sides. It looked as if she was wearing a fluffed dress full of ruffles and waves. Although this made traversing on land incredibly difficult, to the point where Neela had had to carry her to the pedestal for which they now stood. In the water however, Lola glided.

The only part of Neela that was covered in scales was her lower section, right below were a human bellybutton would have protruded. Her scales were fine and pointed, almost serrated, which made rubbing up against another mermaid difficult if mating was out of the question. If she had no intentions of rolling up another body in hopes of achieving sexual satisfaction, those tiny hooks along her scales could nip and tear at her over zealous partner. Being born from royalty, they were far more evident.

Although Neela sported fewer fins than a water sprite, she possessed the standard two at the tip of her tail and a set of pectoral fins. Much like any other of her breed, these pectoral fins, which were located where her legs would have been, helped them navigate on land and especially sand, much like a seal. 

Exclusive to her birth right, being hatched from two dominate alphas, she also sported exclusive fins that would not normally be seen on a standard mermaid or mermen. One of which was a dorsal fin, large and fanned, it glittered and glistened as if sprayed in fine diamonds. Another was a pelvic fin, which was much smaller but still beautifully fringed. In addition, her tail, which was colored a royal blue with speckles of cyan and gold spotting speckling towards the tip, was also longer, another nod to her heritage if the extra fins were not enough.

Water sprites had no need for clothing. With no breasts to speak off and all genitalia carefully hidden in secret slits towards the beginnings of their tail, it was simply unnecessary. Merfolk were similar in that fashion, their own genitalia hidden and protected from view. However, breast milk was a necessity to feed their young, so it was imperative to cover their chests or risk looking indecent and a deviant in the royal aquatic court. 

Dark blue fabric, matching her elegant shawl, neatly embraced her breasts, holding them firmly in place. Decorated with jewels that had been tossed into the ocean, either in flights of passion or by the event of a shipwrecked vessel, were weaved around the low slopping collar. They were also weaved around the lower hem of the long-sleeved shirt and the cuffs.

Admittedly, some of these wrecks, her species had directedly caused.

Although they could no longer summon whirlpools, magic long since drained from their blood, that did not stop them from tearing holes inside the ship haul either by use of sea creatures or their own clawed hands.

Neela took great pride in knowing the massive blue diamond around her throat had taken off a rich damsel whom had chosen to sail with her husband. A man whom had killed one of her mermen in hopes of it being an aphrodisiac to use later on his lover. Neela had loved watching the male struggle as she took the life of his wife, having strung him up in some stray sail ropes. As she took her last gasping breath, salt water flushing out her lungs, Neela took him next, kicking and fighting down to the ocean floor.

Neela slapped the stone beneath her with her tail in unbridled excitement, the fins along her tail flaring and tensing, a display of power and dominance to any encroacher.

The last of her little entourage fumbled under the display and meekly hung her head, most likely interpreting the show as a way of putting her in her place. Her own tail, a deep radiant blue with purple spots across its length was flattened against the stone, almost deflated, in submission. Her fins looked melted to the surface below. Hands rubbing frantically down the lengths of her arms, the smaller merwoman dared not raise her head.

Neela herself was much bigger than the average man, her height from her pectoral fins to top of her skull was over six feet tall. Again, this was a direct result of her breeding as a royal female. However, members of her court, an average merfolk, were slightly smaller in height and length by comparison to her stature.

This member of her court however was roundish in her figure, voluptuous and thick towards her hips. Her tail was shorter and stubby but the power it held was impressive, for she could match Neela’s speed with ease. Her white hair was done into two perfect buns, one on either side of her head, a ribbon of violet keeping them in their places. She too bore a shawl, matching the purple of her ribbons as well as a black shirt beneath it. A silver necklace coiled tightly around her thick throat completed her choice in attire, housing a small teardrop gemstone in the center.

It was an agate if memory served Neela right.

Immediately, she hopped to quell her court member’s fear. Holly, whom still had not moved her gaze from the floor, was one of her most trusted advisors and was often the one delegating work when Neela was out on business. However, considering the nature of things, the Queen thought it wise to have her come along as company, for the merwoman was older than her and was quite well versed in other species. At least when it came to knowledge beyond the normal scope of the average merfolk. 

Naturally, it went without saying that a in the flesh experience was a far different tale in and of itself but at this point, Neela could not be picky.

“Calm yourself, Holly.” She urged, glad to hear that her voice did not sound at all as nervous as she felt, “I am just eager to get this over with.”

It was easier to mask her rising trepidation with the guise of excitement rather than admit that she too was shaking, regret numbing her thoughts like a sickness. Her body was screaming at her to get back in the water, to get beneath the safety of the waves and never look back.

But she couldn’t. 

She was Queen and she had to do something about their current situation.

More than just sitting pretty on her throne and simply agreeing to move when the going got tough. They had moved enough over the last several decades. More than any other recorded time in their long history, according to Holly. Neela wasn’t willing to lose any more terrain to the humans that were staining their beaches in their own blood.

Holly instantly perked back to life, as if someone had drenched her in water, shocking her from whatever fit was claiming her thoughts. Still, her second in command looked worried and ill at ease, her tail flickering this way and that.

“I mean no disrespect, but are you sure this is a good idea?” she questioned, finally vocalizing the option that had no doubt been sitting and festering on her tongue the whole trip.

Fear had not curbed the haunting tone in her voice, the air of authority she carried with levelled shoulders and a stiff back. Loyal and forever on the prowl, she loved her job and was always quick to offer opinions, whether or not they be completely welcome.

“It’s the only one we have.” Neela admitted, the words stinging her tongue as they left, scorching something in the air that seemed to give rise to something on her cheeks. 

Embarrassment and displeasure. 

It hurt to vocalize such vulnerabilities, even if it was only them whom would be privy to them.

They still burned her flesh on their way down, like acid rain across her scales. They only burned hotter as she thought of the glimmering monster of a bird perched high and pretty on her collection of jewels and bones. 

She shuttered in repulsion. “I tried asking for Blanka’s help, but she saw fit to kill some of my messengers for wasting her time.”

They ate everything with a pulse so it should have come as no surprise to her. If anything, it had humoured Blanka close to ecstasy to have mermaid bones to add to her grotesque collection. 

She hoped the witch chocked on them.

Holly glanced around the tree line, observing a wolf that had stopped in its prowling to look in their direction. It sniffed the air and she could see Holly bristle in panic out of the corner of her eye. Still, as soon as it was there, it was gone. The beast merely disappearing back into the tree line, engulfed by foliage and darkness.

The merwoman let out a shaky breath and lifted herself proper, an eyebrow raised hauntingly as she regarded her Queen, “What if this Chief of the centaurs does the same?”

Neela thought for a moment, having briefly skirted around that idea only a few moments ago. She glanced at the ocean behind her, the sun now only a third of the way from its highest point. The time of the Chief’s arrival was quickly approaching. “Can they swim?”

The white haired merwoman shook her head, “Not very well, I would imagine. They are extremely heavy and possess no fins or webbed appendages.”

The Queen nodded, turning her gaze back to the forest line. “Then we will flee.”

“But they are incredibly fast on land, your highness.” Holly protested, her shoulders shaking when she no doubt realized how far they were from the ocean tide. 

She turned with a serious expression on her face that Neela refused to meet. “They would crush us before we even touched sand.”

Still, Neela refused to let the panic over take her. She was royal blood after all. It was her destiny to carry and protect her people in times of crisis and now she needed to make a decision. If this whole debocle let to her death, so be it, continuing to run and hide would inevitably lead to that same result. 

It would only accomplish stalling for time. 

“Then let us hope my mother was right in keeping the contracts with those wisps.” She turned to look at her second in command, glad to see her bow low and deep under her gaze, “They were used to communicate with them years ago. She wouldn’t have done so if we had anything to fear.”

Meera had been a formidable Queen, who even years after her death was celebrated and praised as paramount and near godly during her centuries if rule. Neela only wished to live up to even a quarter of what her mother had accomplished, but it seemed more unlikely with every passing day. Her mother was a true alpha and she was only really suited as a beta at best.

And that was being extremely sparing.

Her mother was much too astute and guileful to leave anything remotely close to useless. Rulers left clues and foot holds for their children when they could no longer be there to guide them through the storm. Neela had no reason to believe that this would not play out in their favour.

Even still, doubt was a monster that was both stubborn and clingy.

“Still,” Holly persisted, “times have changed. What if humans have turned them spiteful and closed off?”

That was not a completely unfair argument. 

Many of the mystical creatures that remained had shut themselves off from others, too scared and miserable to even attempt braving the outside. However, centaurs were one of the few species, so she had been told, that were usually left alone by humans. Unlike dragons, the mightiest of mythical beasts, that could be easily swayed into a trap by promise of gold or diamonds, centaurs planed and strategized for combat. They excelled at crafting and using tools and traps of their own to help win the fight. Where dragons relied too much on fire and brimstone, centaurs were known for using dirty fighting tactics to gain the upper hand. In battle there were no rules of combat and they were the founders of using anything and everything to their advantage.

If there was a weakness, no matter how small, they would exploit it for all its worth.

In a way, they fought like humans. This being the prime reason the human race avoided them whenever possible. It was hard to fight a creature that mirrored your calculations and ideals not only perfectly, but better. Often, the machines of war the centaur’s brought to the table far outweighed those any human could build in retaliation.

The Queen stared down at her companion, unable to stop the frown from curving her lips. The doubt was now mauling at her from the inside out. “Then we find another way.”

“There aren’t many options left, your highness,” the burly woman admitted, her hands fumbling with themselves, a habit Neela had never seen her do before. Quickly, she came to realize that the action terrified her, “especially if we don’t survive.”

Swallowing, pleased that it was not as loud as it could have been, Neela tried to offer a small smile but knew she was failing. “Then let’s hope we do.”

“Over there, look.” Piped Lola suddenly, pointing towards the tree line with a delicate, almost fragile looking, hooked claw.

Both, shocked by the almost whisper like voice, turned towards her indicated direction.

From the line of trees, large wolves descended down the small hill, galloping at a casual pace towards them. Massive and with long hooked fangs, they were almost as large as a human being, greatly dwarfing the common wolf and domesticated canine. With all that muscle, they moved with a surprizing amount of grace, their fur long and thick, layers of protection to cover the skin beneath. They were mostly black in colour, though there were a few bathed in silver and one even a snowy white.

Neela immediately recognized the wolf from before, the one whom had looked at them for the briefest of moments before hurtling back into the forest from whence she came. Clearly, she had returned with friends, ten in all.

Normally, Neela would have turned back to the ocean, not willing to fight such beasts on land. In water, most assuredly, but from their current position, they were no better than a tussling toddler in combat. 

However, upon closer inspection, she noticed that they were all wearing armor, leather straps positioning steel face plates and guards up their backs and chests. Symbols in bright yellow where painted across them. Heavy collars with precarious spikes looped around their thick necks, swaying this way and that as they drew ever closer.

Holly made a sound of complain and Lola moved to press herself tight against the merqueen’s side but Neela ignored them, squinting her eyes and leaning forward, hoping to see just a little bit more.

Whistles sounded from the tree line and bushes moved as taller shadows advanced, morphing out from the darkness of the isolated canopy and into the light of the sun. The wolves howled in unison, throwing their heads back with such force that Neela was almost assured they would snap their own necks.

Massive forms vaulted out of the woods, one far bigger than the other two that flanked unflinchingly at its sides. Effortlessly, the biggest whistled again, shrill and demanding. The wolves howled and turned back, changing their trajectory from the mermaids to scoping the area. Fanning out like a small infestation, they panted, dashing and sniffing along the shore and through the thick tuffs of tall grass, looking for anything else.

Neela felt her heart flutter with excitement, noticing immediately that they were centaurs, their steady hoofbeats that pelted the ground without mercy alleviating some tension within her. However, trepidation still lingered for there was much that could go wrong. Although the centaurs had arrived on time, had even arrived at all, was only the beginning. Them even hearing her out and not killing them was an entirely different thing altogether.

It dawned on her again that she might not ever be leaving this place, that her corpse would be doomed to stay and rot on this forsaken pedestal in the ruins of a time long since passed till not even bones remained. And just like that, ice cold fear reached out and grasped at her heart, pulling it down with her hopes that seemed to be sinking faster the closer they got.

Four in total, though one was almost as small as Lola, Neela felt as though she should have brought more muscles to this summit. However, her hands had been tired. With so many raids by the humans, she needed to be sure that all available forces were present in case the worst should happen. Taking one of her warriors on a diplomatic adventure seemed unwise.

Now she wondered if that had been a completely valid statement.

Still she was reassured that if the Chief could spare some extra hands, then it was true that they were far better off than she and her court.

If the one in the middle was in fact the Chief at all of course.

Gradually, the little group slowed to a trot and eventually a steady, almost lethargic walk, stopping a respectable distance from the nervous looking merfolk. It displeased her slightly to see Holly shaking so hard in front of someone she was hoping to impress. Afterall, they had to look worth the effort, if any. The smallest of the centaurs moved quickly and silently behind the largest of the four, merely a shadow to Neela’s eyes, unable to pick out details or body structure.

During their decent of the hill, this one had stayed cleverly out of sight.

The one in the middle, standing, and Neela was guessing, ten feet tall, had no trouble conveying the power and might that was so clearly defined in both body structure and presence. Towering over them all, the monster of a centaur possessed the lower half of what closely resembled a Belgian Draft. It was thick and rippled with distinguished muscles, heavy and sturdy, yet long in its legs. Enormous hooves held up the weight with little to no effort while Neela was sure that the lower half alone weighted almost triple her own. 

Typical to the breed it emulated, the hindquarters were large and well built, the front, stocky and well muscled. While the body was coloured a deep black that seemed to shimmer purple and blue in the light of the sun, its stocky heavy feet were covered from knee to hoof in a thick blond pelt that was feathered and furred around the base and back. The tail matched this yellowish blond colour and was cut fairly short, only looking to be three feet long at best, most likely for fighting advantage. 

Most of the body was covered in similar armour to the wolves, steel plates curved and dented to fit around the parts of the rear, front and along the back. Thick leather straps held these lines of defense perfectly in place and judging by the nicks and scratches craved along the sides, this warrior had been tested a few times.

And won.

If looks were anything to go by.

Various seizes of saddle bags were strapped over and around where the human hips connected with where the neck of the horse would have been. A long delicately engraved blade was also there, safely tucked away in its scabbard.

Carefully, hoping she did not look the least big rude, Neela let her eyes trail upwards, trying not to think to hard over how easy it would be for a centaur that size to crush her body to something utterly unrecognizable.

The upper section, that was clearly female from what she could interpret, left not an ounce of skin visible, armour and leather hiding all from view. This briefly surprised the merqueen, for she had no indication of the gender of the Chief whom she was requesting the audience with. Naturally, she believed that the head of the centaur tribe would have been male. 

The armour seemed to hold no qualms in showing off just how much cleavage lay beneath, the smooth panel lining almost lovingly curving around the mounts of flesh. It made Neela flush though for the life of her she couldn’t begin to understand why. The shoulder pads, curved and pointed, caused a ball of unease to curl in the pit of Neela’s stomach, especially when she took in the shapes of the bow and quiver slung over her shoulder.

Vaguely, Neela was starting to wonder if she hadn’t come prepared enough for this confrontation.

Or was it still a deliberation?

Before she could truly commit to thinking that over, thick gloved hands, plated with more steel, reached up and removed the helmet, hooking it somewhere behind her along the equine back. Chainmail clinked and rattled as she moved, rippling from head to toe, down the length of her imposing body.

For a second, Neela was sure she had forgotten how to breathe, her heart suddenly soaring high and wrenching itself uncomfortably in her throat. Along her tail, her fins flared despite herself, her heart thundering wildly from its hitched location.

The face was pale in colour, like she did not often travel under the rays of sun without protection. The sharp contrast of the angular jaw and high cheek bones only further driving the nail home that this was not a woman to be double crossing. 

The striking features ignited something within the Queen’s gut, her eyes tracing the sprinkle of freckles that seeped across the bridge of her nose and under each eye like a tattoo. Her hair was cut short, odd in comparison to the traditional long flowing hair of all females in her own court. It was as wild as the female looked to be. Spiky and sharp, a thick blond lock swept up and around, curving below both cheekbones. 

However, what made her heart want to promptly lurch itself out of her body and onto the stone floor were the centaur’s eyes. Never before had she seen a creature with yellow eyes before, golden and shimmering, they remained Neela of the treasure that was still sitting in her private trove at the bottom of the ocean floor. They were pinched into a tight glaring expression, regarding her with quiet analysis, observing her from head to tail.

Neela puffed herself out before she could even think about what she was doing, her fins flaring all the way up, stretching the membranes as her tail waged playfully from side to side. For any merfolk, it would have been obvious that she was displaying herself, hoping the other would like what she saw. However, the action only seemed to put the centaur female immediately on edge. The two burly looking soldiers flanking her sides seemed to react in much in the same way, hooves pawing at the ground as they huffed heavily in agitation.

A gloved hand moved for her sword and Neela panicked. The Dire wolves howled as if sensing the commencing battle and stilled in their restless pacing of grass and stone.

Holly moved to cover her eyes and Lola seemed to be pressing so tightly into her scales that Neela was almost afraid she would melt into them.

“W-wait! I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to scare you. That wasn’t my intention.”

The hand froze and after a second of deliberation, emotions flickering like evening lights across those molten eyes, it resided, arms locking below her chest. The two at her sides, armored and tense, immediately backed down.

Neela took but a moment to look them over. 

The two creatures stood at the exact size and shape of the other, looking almost like a mirror image. They were curvaceous, though muscles were clearly the primary factor to their voluptuous figures. The horse half looked akin to that of a draft, only both seemed to have far thicker legs and rounded rears than the blond in the middle. There bodies were a soft bay colour, almost cream with their blond tail tied into a tight bun. Armour covered much of their bodies and like with the middle, left nothing of a clue for what lay beneath the human portion of the creature. They were clearly brawny and well shaped, much like the rest of them, but that was all she could decipher.

That and they were female.

A pair of swords, one on each hip, indicated that they were ambidextrous and the thought alone scared Neela. There was also the presence of a whip, the sight of which caused a knot of unease to tighten in the merqueen’s stomach.

The blond looked her over again, her gaze analytical and scrutinising. Searching. “You did not scare me. I merely thought you were looking for a fight.”

Neela shook her head no, her hair bellowing out around her, a tempest of silver. “No. There’s no way I could even fight you.”

She gestured to herself and her companions, Lola barely visible and Holly a shell of herself, trembling under the might of this centaur like a leaf in a gale. “We are without weapons.”

“These are desperate times.” The mare countered, her body readjusting itself into a more comfortable position, the squareness in both sets of shoulders gone. “I have seen otherwise gentle folk with not even a claw to protect themselves, rear back and bite.”

That piercing look that could have set ice aflame softened some, and it spurred hope and something else to flames within Neela’s breast. “Forgive me my lack of restraint.”

The dogs seemed to howl in dismay and carried on with their assigned task, analyzing the scents, screeching for an intruder. Occasionally they would nip at each other, but it was far from vicious. If anything, it looked like attempts at play.

Flustered, Neela fumbled over her words, unused to this level of attention. Most would never dare to look her in the eye and if they did, it never entailed the level of confidence and power this one so effortlessly displayed. It spooked yet engaged her, captivated by this creature whom stood on equal footing as herself. A creature that carried weight beyond muscle.

Most assuredly a title of some kind.

Swallowing, attempting to gain some command over the emotions that were swelling within, Neela clasps her hands together in an effort to stop them from restlessly twitching. “No, please, forgive me.” She pleaded, her voice soft and level, much to her relief, “I’m here to ask for help and instead I insult you. Please understand that wasn’t my intention.”

The centaur blinked and with the barest of movements, angled her head to the side, “What was your intention?”

Heat soared across her cheeks, try as she may to stop it. “I-I’m not sure.” That was most certainly no lie, she hadn’t a clue why her body had reacted in such a way, “I haven’t really spoken to another mythical creature besides the members of my own court. I just wasn’t sure what to do with myself.”

It was the best she could offer, for it was all she could tell herself. Such an instinct was normal and expected of rutting merfolk desperate to please and earn a mate in the coming warmth of summer waters. It was almost expected, but as an alpha bred to rule and hand pick only the most loyal and powerful of males, this was frowned upon. Logic should dictate her body’s reactions, not the other way around.

That scorching primal instinct that listened to not a word of logic but the scents and smells of nature and sky should have had no control over her.

Many had tried for her companionship, all performing wonderous spectacles and feats worthy of being accepted and declared king but she refused them all. Not one of them had spurred this kind of unprovoked reaction from her.

It both scared and yet commanded Neela’s attention.

The only joy she took out of the spectacle was that only her most trusted had seen her behave so brazenly and the centaur seemed to have no concept of merfolk culture.

The blond nodded, stiff and poised, “I understand. This is actually the first time I have ever seen or even conversed with a mermaid before.”

So, her pervious assumption had been confirmed. 

It made her heart want to choke itself but her mind was filled with relief. The conflicting gravitational pulls were causing strain within the chasms between.

“You’ve never seen one of my kind?” She questioned, daring to untangle one of her hands to try and soothe the trembling form of her water sprite, whom was making the most gut-wrenching of coos.

Carefully, she rubbed up and down the spines that trailed down her back, pleased to hear the saddening sounds stop and the trembling spasms lessen. Holly too had stopped shaking and seemed to be looking at the mare with a new found intrigue, something that looked fairly similar to awe.

The mare shook her head, those blond curls that cupped her cheeks bouncing slightly. “No. To be honest, I had thought you had gone extinct.” She frowned, as if dismayed by her quick assumption over the irradiation of another mystic beast. 

“Humans rely heavily on water, more so than most.” She continued, her voice stern as she gestured to the lapping ocean behind them, “Its how they move their trades and wares to other villages. Unfortunately, you seem to fight for the same beaches. Am I correct?”

It was Neela’s turn to frown.

“Yes. We’ve had to move many times. In the ocean we have the upper hand but we need to go ashore to breed and lay our eggs.” She flushed a little, suddenly unsure if perhaps this was too much information for a solider. 

Yet as she looked at that imposing face, there was nothing to suggest disgust or revolt, so she continued. “As you can imagine, we do not fair as well.”

Golden suns narrowed. “They pick you off them?”

“Yes, and take our eggs.”

“I see.” A pause, heavy as it was tinged with touchable anger and resentment, “How do you expect us to help you?”

Neela smiled, her heart fluttering in her chest. She also took note of the new set of eyes watching her from under the mare’s shadow, body clutched to one of her hindlegs, only her head visible. “I was hoping to talk with the chief and discuss possible ideas.”

The mare blinked owlishly down at her; the expression comical before going steely serious once again. “Oh, my apologies, I never introduced myself.”

A leg buckled, muscles flexing and rippling as the intimidating form slipped into a small polite bow, a horse foreleg moving up, as if lifting a paw. The human part folded one arm over her torso, enclosed fist to her opposite shoulder, whilst the free arm crossed tightly behind her back. “My name is Marigold Knight and I am the Chief you are looking for.”

Neela blinked up at the mare in surprise and awe, a small part of her mind scolding her on the fact that she hadn’t come to the revelation herself. 

It was obvious by the stature of this warrior female, compared to the two flanking her, that she greatly outsized them, in stature and muscle as well as presence. Her strange yet exotic eye colour could also have been another indication of her bloodline, perhaps even as far as the colours across her equine body. These were typical signs of an alpha, regardless of species, simple yet profound touches that made them shine just a little brighter than the common folk. 

It was to attract attention as well as scare away competition.

The last member of the Chief’s entourage seemed to move closer at the bow, taking it as a sign that it was safe to approach. 

With careful hooves and linked hands, the creature moved till she stood between Marigold’s front legs. 

It was a fawn, standing hunched but curious with the lower body of a goat. Unlike centaurs, fawns possessed two legs, not four, yet were known for leaping unimaginable distances with little to no effort. The fur that gathered at her hips, below her bellybutton, was thick and course, a dark brown with silver speckles, which covered all the way to her narrowed clove split hooves. Her skin was almost as pale as Marigold’s and her hair was just as blond. The only difference was the few streaks of brown running through it. Small delicate looking horns curved out from either side of her head, like that of a ram, rippled and pointed.

Blue eyes widened with fear, the fawn regarded her like she was a beast of the sea and she sniffed the air like a scared rabbit. A leather jacket with shoulder and breast plates covered the human section rather nicely, the rest was left bare. Like Lola, it was hardly necessary to cover anything, for the fur concealed anything that would have shown aggressively well.

Lola blinked and sniffed back, almost as if in answer. For a second, the two seemed interested in one another, curious of the other small creature that stood in the presences of giants. However, the action was short lived, the fawn choosing to look up in awe of her leader, ignoring the sprite all together.

As the chief pulled her body out of the curtsy, Neela felt her cheeks redden again, meekly performing a bow of her own. Magnificent tail sweeping in front of her person, she politely arched her torso forward, curling behind her tail as hands clasped together. She inclined her head forwards, hair slipping out over her face, thankful for even a moment of cover as she struggled to chase the scandalous colour away. 

Softly, as too not give the wrong impression, she fluttered her fins in a welcoming display, hoping that it was conveyed as such.

“M-my apologies.”

“That must mean you are Queen Neela.” Came the most obvious statement.

The Queen looked up; her blue eyes half hidden behind the protective curtain of her bangs, humbled in the acknowledgement. Carefully, she unfurled her body from the bow, allowing her tail to sweep extended and slack behind her. “Yes.”

“I am sorry to have not properly introduced myself.” It sounded sincere.

A smile crossed her lips, watching this militant female straighten her posture and fold her arms behind her back, as if she was giving instruction to a handful of her soldiers. “As am I.”

“From your note, I was not entirely sure about its validity. This would not be the first-time humans have attempted to lure us into a trap and I wanted to be prepared in case it proved a ruse.” She continued, obviously explaining her need for the wolf pack and armed soldiers at her sides. 

If this had been a dirty trick, she would have been ready to unleash the appropriate punishment for the folly.

The Merqueen could not fault her for that, since neither clan had really spoken to each other centuries.

“As for your dilemma,” Marigold continued, “if you live as close as you do, which reach of a human settlement, it might be worth your while to simply move.”

A sudden gasp alerted Neela to her confidant, whom seemed to have finally found her voice. Slapping her thick tail against the stone, she turned to centaur, flushed and angry, hands clenched into fists. “We are running out of places to hide!”

Neela wanted to toss her into the ocean for her outburst, lips pulling back to reveal small but sharp teeth. “Holly!”

The woman shuttered and flinched away, her body flattening itself against the ground again, unable to look her in the eye. Attempting to fix what had been done, Neela turned with apologies on her tongue only to be shocked by the smirk that crossed the mare’s face. In anything, Marigold looked more amused than upset.

The two curvaceous centaurs at her sides seemed almost impressed by the show of spine, sparing glances at one another over the back of their leader. The faun was the only one out of the entourage who seemed utterly revolted by the disturbance and sputtered, pressing herself close to her leader’s left leg.

“I was going to say that there is a beach close to my settlement. You are more than welcome to move your shoal to my neck of the woods.” Her voice was dripping with mirth, something that sounded delicious to Neela’s eardrums and made her heart quiver.

“Humans would not dare to come so close to our location, so you would be protected from their spite. More so, your abilities to sink ships could keep them from attempting to outflank us by docking at our shore.”

She paused, her eyes flickering to the sky in thought before settling back down on the Merqueen’s face, “We could use our strengths to keep each other safe. To make a utopia that would keep all secure and protected from human encroachment.”

Part of Neela wavered some at this idea, not liking how decisions had been made for her. However, she should not have been surprised. The leader of merfolk could not have expected that another race, already having their own issues and plights, would be willing help another without expecting something in return. Yet, hope still flamed and sizzled within her breast. It would be a partnership, two sides pulling their own weight to create a heaven for both and not just the one. There was nothing in the centaur’s voice that conveyed any hint of distrust. If anything, the mare seemed fully intent on assisting the arrangement.

However, there was a problem with this plan.

“I would really rather not move them.” The Merqueen admitted softly, already imagining the look of disappointment and terror at having to take all they had, which was so little now, and face the tides and predators once more. 

They had lost a good deal of their own in the last move. There were only so many of the ocean’s sea creatures that were willing to listen and leave them alone. 

A mating pair of sea serpents had been less than pleased to find a horde of merfolk invading their territory during a crucial and delicate matter that was courtship. It wasn’t often they breed and it was often as dangerous and unpredictable as the ocean itself. Five had been eaten before they eventually gave up the chase, most likely attempting to resume what had been interrupted by offering one another chunks of lacerated merfolk.

“I understand your plight,” Assured the mare softly, the voice startling Neela clean out of her thoughts, “but in the note you sent to me, you stated your shoal was living within the reach of a human village. Even if we helped you, if I moved troops to eradicate that village and we burned the buildings to the ground, it would only attract more attention.”

Deep down, Neela knew somewhere in her head, the mare’s words rang true. A part of her firmly acknowledged that the woman was wise enough to try and find a stable solution. 

It had been simply coincidence that the place that seemed almost too perfect had already taken. The village had started out small at first, a cluster of only a handful of human settlers. They would not dare to venture far and being so wary from traveling, the merfolk were willing to overlook this possible danger. 

As it grew over the years, however, more humans migrating towards the village, it matured to something more akin to a town. With so many of their own kin within reach, the lodgings no longer isolated or remote, they started to venture further. Their quarrel resumed like that of a disgusting children’s tale. At first, the merfolk had been able to fend them off, their claws and teeth enough to keep them at bay. But naturally, the humans grew smarter, tactical, using tools and traps to break down their moral. 

Eventually, her shoal, her court, could not longer chance at staying and they were pushed back from the sandy shores and into the deep.

The only time they chanced to go back ashore, was during the hours of nightfall, when humans typically refused to leave their lodgings. But this life of secrecy was no real life at all and there would be a time when the humans caught on to the fact that she and her court had not truly left.

However, her mother had told her such extravagant tales of centaur power and gallantry, that Neela was immediately angered by the centaur’s idea. They were spoken of as the true champions of all mystical beasts, lunging into battle, unafraid and fearless, blessed with such durable and shimmering armour. 

Meera had often said that they knew nothing of failure or retreat. That even the more foreboding of human troops would be effortlessly tossed aside in their stampede, bouncing off eternal armour. Insects colliding with fury and teeth but no substance. She had spoken of their tactical influences and weapons, tools capable of hurtling barbed spears that could soar over a mountain before striking earth. Neela often dreamed of the noises they would make, imagining thunder and lighting as steel struck the earth like a finger of god.

Her merfolk even had songs dedicated to the valour and splendor of the beasts standing before her, how they would not hesitate to help another creature, that pride was their only true flaw.

Where was all that chivalry now?

Neela felt anger stir within her, her tail slapping the stone in her aggravation. “Are you not capable of fighting them?”

The flanking females looked mildly stunned at the insult, exchanging heated glances at one another, yet they did not move or make a sound. The faun snarled, the sound sharp and high, her little clawed hands gripping harshly at the armor around Marigold’s leg, as if to anchor herself, to stop her from attacking. Even the wolves themselves seemed offended, as if they had heard the intoning insult, all stopping to glare with ghostly blue eyes at the Merqueen. They did not pant, nor chance a blink. Their bodies going strangely still, almost statuesque, the fur along their backs bristled and feathering upwards.

It was a look of a predator that was intending to kill.

Immediately, Neela wished she could reach out and stuff those words back down her throat. Swallow them back into herself so they could digest in her stomach acids, never to see the light of day ever again. Her body tensed, hate now rearing its ugly head at her, teething painfully at her thoughts. Her heart stalled and fell, as if accepting its fate. 

How stupid she was to bite that hand that feeds? 

Neela had asked for this encounter, pleaded, begged, and now she would brush off the Chief when offered a solution? 

Licking her lips, the Merqueen watched emotions flicker over those golden eyes, fast and furious with decision but anger itself never seemed to take root as she had expected it too.

Marigold sighed and frowned, looking down with touchable pity at the fellow leader before her. “We are, make no mistake about that. But centaurs do more than simply fighting.” A commanding tone took hold, her body straightening as if giving a speech and for a second, nostalgia hit Neela hard. 

It was a similar look her mother would have used when addressing her court.

“I have to look out for my people and having them killed is not exactly on my list of priorities.” There was no spite in this statement, but Neela flinched hard all the same, her heart wallowing in more than self-pity.

It was never an issue of them leaping into battle, it was an issue of the aftermath. 

Effortlessly, they could lay waste to the village and most likely the surrounding one that occupied territory far too close to Neela’s beach. However, other settlements would no doubt hear of the destruction and want revenge. A simple scuffle that would be finished within the day would extend into a war spanning for months, leading to lives lost on both sides. 

Wherever Marigold and her tribe lived, they had earned their place and humans left them well enough alone. What use was their in upsetting the balance?

She was not thinking like a leader, Neela realized bitterly. She was thinking like a scorned Queen whom wanted them to pay for the people she had lost to human corruption and malice. 

When plotting revenge, her mother used to say, remember to dig a grave for yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Neela said wretchedly, eyes drifting down from woman whom was not only older than her, but clearly had some wisdom to back her claims, “I did not mean-”

“-I understand.” The Chief said suddenly, shutting Neela down before she could begin. 

When she glanced up, blue clashed with yellow but again, there was no anger in sight, “This is not a simple trifle. I can more than sympathize. There was a time centuries ago where we could only run from human advance. My tribe has crossed much of this world before finding the strength to fight and keep what is ours. However, I cannot wait for an answer forever.”

Neela frowned, something stabbing hard into her heart. She could only seem to identify it as regret. “I understand.”

A moment or too passed before the mare spoke again. Her eyes were narrowed and her back tense, decision hardening her resolve. “I will give you a month. Talk it over with your court.”

The Queen fumbled, hesitance still clinging to her like a second skin. The last thing she wanted was to return to her court with nothing really to show for her efforts. This was their last chance to do something before the time of nesting reared over the horizon. It was almost assured that if they tried to breed and have young for the next generation, there would not be any of them left standing.

“But I don’t even know where it is, what it even looks like.” The Merqueen protested, hating how shamefully small and unimposing she sounded.

She sounded nothing like when her mother had reservations. There was no authority in her presence or tone. Only a meek little mermaid with a crown far too heavy for her head.

“You are more than welcome to explore our cove and determine if it is right for you.” Came an easy answer, the mare gradually wheeling herself around, intent on traveling back up the hill, but she lingered. 

The faun was smart enough to move clear out of the way, but made no attempt to escape the safety of her leader’s shadow. Glaring, she held onto the armor with white knuckles and a sour expression. 

Marigold was either oblivious to her fawn’s actions of ignoring them. “However, time is ticking is it not?”

Neela hung her head, feeling a weight fall hard onto her shoulders. “Yes.”

Marigold frowned some, pawing at the dirt that crumbled like dust under her strength. “Think it over and feel free to visit, it is merely about an eight days run from here.” she gestured to her right, pointing towards a horizon of mountain peeks and hills of lush forests.

The mare hummed for a moment, thinking it over. 

“Most likely closer by water now that I think about it. You will not have mountains to navigate.” There was a hint of a smile, genuine as it was small, “Whatever your decision, please let me know. Your wisps know where to find me.”

With that, the conversation was done and the Chief of centaurs moved with purpose and authority back up the small hill.

The fawn almost yelped with surprise at the sudden movement, narrowly avoiding heavy hooves. Shaking herself, as if to ride her fur of something, she spryly sprinted alongside her leader and crawled up the armor attached to equine legs, coming to rest on Marigold’s back. The fawn stared down at Neela with something akin to resentment and smug enjoyment. 

The two mares immediately followed their Chief, lumbering dutifully at her sides once again. The wolves howled and bayed with touchable excitement, quickly encircling them like a horde of birds. Panting and huffing, saliva dripping in sticky strings between fluttering fowls, they near galloped alongside the mares, playfully nipping at one another. 

Any tension that had been stirred within them gone and dead, forgotten.

Neela could feel Holly staring hotly up at her from somewhere to her right, as well as the delicate press of Lola’s fingers against her scales. 

Time was running short and she needed to make a decision, life was not going to wait and humans were not exactly known for staying ignorant for long. 

All it would take is one listless human to stumble upon their nightly activities and they would be extinct species. 

Regardless of her fears of the unknown, suddenly uprooting all they had to go and life in a domain of a creature she clearly knew nothing about, weighted heavily on her. It was reckless and brought nothing but uncertainty over the horizon, so many questions threatening to strangle her alive. 

Could they really trust them?

Did they really have their best interests at heart? 

Was there concern as sincere as it sounded, or was the tone the soothing touch before the toxic bite?

Was this all an elaborate trap?

However, her only other course of action seemed worse by comparison, a familiar shiver rattling up her spine from somewhere along her fins.

Neela thought of the beach and the broken eggshells, the unborn fetuses laying limp and rotting in the sun of the new dawn. Blood staining the sandy shore to an ugly brownish red that no amount of water could ever remove. 

The only other choice was to lurch herself back into the sea, praying for some kind of miracle, to scout blindly for a place still untouched my man and their influence. They would have to brave the perils of the deep once more, creatures like sea serpents and orcas or even discarded nets by men.

That or the even less favourable, to wait and see if the human settlement moved of their own accord.

The answer, though it scared her, was obvious.

Whatever happened, the ocean would save them. After all, Neela was sure Holly’s assumption had been correct. Centaurs looked far too heavy to swim, or at least, not for a very long time and if they did try anything underhanded, it was clear they needed air to breathe.

Something being dragged under the water would rob them of.

Hands tightening at her side, the Queen of merfolk looked up at the retreating forms of the centaurs, her mind setting in stone. 

“Wait!” she called, surprised and happy to see them stall, Marigold even looking over her shoulder at her.

“It’s a deal!”

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Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you think and I hope to update soon.

<3


	2. Yearning does not dampen with time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are growing bolder in their attempts to wipe her and her people off the face of the earth. If it had not been for the necessity of breeding, she and her kind would have stayed beneath the waves where they belonged. But their eggs need air and sandy beaches, their mothers nestled up top and patient. They need help in protecting themselves in their most vulnerable of states. Neela, queen of her mermaids and mermen, invokes the help of another breed for assistance. They meet for the first time and almost as soon as the sun casts its glow, she is love struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> \- Blue Diamond – Queen Neela  
> \- Yellow Diamond – Chief Marigold, Marigold Knight  
> \- White Diamond – Empress Blanka  
> \- Blue Pearl - Lola  
> \- Yellow Pearl – Eva Tempest  
> \- Holly Blue Agate - Holly  
> \- Yellow Agate – Hildegard and Hiltrude Gisil  
> \- Pink Diamond – Queen Primrose
> 
> Courts:  
> \- Blue Diamond’s court – Mermaids and mermen  
> \- Yellow Diamond’s court - Centaurs  
> \- Pink Diamond’s court - Dwarves  
> \- White Diamond’s court – Harpies
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Humans are the enemy  
> \- Mermaids and men can live above water, they come on land to breed and lay their eggs, though courtship is performed underwater and above. They wear sea glass and shells and elegant clothing woven from the hair of beasts.  
> \- In the West, full of mountains and spanning flat lands, live the centaurs. They are known for their fighting prowess and strength. They earn the right to do anything within their tribe and clan through fighting. They are almost always wearing armor and the pelts of their kills.  
> \- To the North, hidden in the mountains are the Harpies, they live secluded from everyone else and believe everyone is inferior to them for they can fly. They covet previous items such as gold and diamonds.  
> \- Blue will fall for Marigold almost instantly. Bellow story I don’t care if you don’t like.  
> \- This will be short however if it is liked I will expand. Also, to that note, Pink Diamond will most likely make an appearance in the second part of this story if I choose to continue it beyond the scope of what this part of the tale describes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, this whole thing is purely for fun.

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Chapter 2  
Yearning does not dampen with time

A cold, yet pleasant breeze swept in from the skies and over the landscape, stroking the juvenile bubs and sprouts with a caress as soft as a mother’s touch. Trees bowed and swayed, their branches only just beginning to grow a shadow of vegetation, a whisper of what they would eventually bare. 

Grass, still partly covered in traces of snow and frost, seemed to be wiggling free from the frozen cocoon that had imprisoned them for months, springing with life under the touch of sun and wind. Some animals staggered out from their dens to greet the day, quietly, sleepily tasting the smells of wet plants and change. Others, whom had been alive and thriving throughout the blanketing reign of snow and ice, scurried with purpose and haste to prepare for the next winter.

Neela sighed as she beached herself on shore, loving the feel of sand over her pectoral fins and the underbelly of her tail. Her lungs greedily sucked back air that was so different from water, light and invisible, yet full of smells that no water, no matter how grand, could replicate. 

Spring was truly a wonder on land, the world shedding its skin, new, ugly and raw, to become something gorgeous and plentiful. It was a change the ocean never experienced. Beside the alterations in temperature, little things such as the blossoming buds and awaking animals, were lost to the ocean dwelling folk.

Time passed without change under the water’s embrace, so unlike the land that changed and morphed to accommodate the changes that took place without hesitance or mercy. Not all survived its cold unforgiving touch, but this was how the land creatures determined whom was fit to live and whom deserved to be forgotten and return to dirt.

Although the ocean had its own perils and trails, none seemed as fulfilling as the changing of snow to greenery, the husk becoming alive and heavy with the smells and sensations that stirred. Awake and ready, from the darkness.

The Queen of merfolk had been in a state of hibernation herself, her clan remaining close to the bottom of the ocean in their newly erected temples and castle, movements slow by steady. Although cold temperatures hardly phased her kind, having been conceived and then born into waters that chilled most creatures alive, that touch of winter seemed to bite them in a way no other could. Away from their new found allies, they stayed safe and secure within their new haven, surrounded by thick flourishing forests of coral and marbled stone that felt nothing of the changes above.

Although it had turned their waters colder than normal, making them slow and less reactive to stimuli, Neela pushed for her court to continue its plans of expansion. 

With months of time to linger submerged, it was the opportune moment to build homes and nests for the new generation that would be conserved when spring finally rolled over the horizon, chasing shadows, shorter days and the snow away. Neela wanted to be sure that each court member was prepared to rebuild what they had lost, not only in culture, having left the old palace to rot, but also in populous. Though there were several hundreds of them, it was still significantly smaller than the court her mother had left at the time of her death.

Intricate cut stone and coloured coral was moved and placed to created towering structures which glowed and pulsed with the life of the sea. Whilst some were restricted to building, others were given tasks of finding proper stones of courtship as well as food for the long days where much of the fish had fled.

When spring finally came around, Neela feeling the change almost immediately, even far below the waves and currents, much had been accomplished. The Queen could safely say that her court was ready for the mating season, all preparations for below and above the waves were set. Although their colony still had much more construction to be had, it was enough for now and would serve their needs perfectly till the next winter season.

Taking a moment to let the waves lap and roll over her body, the Queen moved with purpose up the sandy hills composed of millions of broken sea shells. To any of flesh, such a sensation would have caused discomfort, pain, but to her scaly tail and thin fins, they were nothing. Soothing the tangles from her hair with her fingers, the silver locks shimmering like polished threads in the sun, Neela observed her beach with pride.

It was shaped like a large crescent moon, stretching for miles with white dust coloured sand and rimmed by sharp pointed rocks that made descending to the beach difficult. Gulls shrieked and cawed overhead as they fought over the carcass of fish that had been swept ashore, dead either from the weather or simply too old to carry on. They fought violently with hooked beaks and claws, some swooping low enough to knock challengers away. 

Neela ignored them with a smile, their efforts so exasperating that it was delightfully amusing.

This was only the beginning, there would be many more corpses. The ocean gave, but it also took away. While she and her clan survived with not a quiver of trouble, others had to struggle simply to keep moving.

But that was life.

Dimly, Neela wondered of the struggles that land creatures had to face. Pondering over what other trials, besides snow and tempests, were hurled at them in the name of weeding out the weak. She would have to ask. After all, as a creature that avoided such ordeals by staying low and calm beneath water, she was unaware of what actually occurred to land fairing beasts that had no choice but to endure the hardships.

As she slithered up the sandy crests, avoiding the lingering patches of snow that still tried to hold claim to what they had once dominated, Neela looked for the craved entrance to her terrain, a gateway. It had been craved and erected by the centaurs to not only allow them access to the beach for fishing, but also to allow the merfolk to venture into their tribe.

As it stood, along the outline of the moon shaped beach, flanked by the sharp rock like teeth, it was the only way in or out.

Spotting it, Neela changed her trajectory, having been momentarily disoriented by the long seclusion under the waves. 

It looked as beautiful as she remembered, arched and tall, covered in intricate, yet complicated designs only the centaurs could have dreamed of. Stones, precious and polished, were also embedded into the surface, shimmering like stars across the weathered yet sturdy monument.

There were purposefully no stairs to cross the threshold, only a generous incline that allowed her people to safely crawl up the slope. Thankfully, it seemed the sun had already scorched away any ice that might have lingered which meant her ascent would be dignified and without too much trouble.

Before she crossed however, she took a moment to assure herself that her hair was in order, that it was neatly draped over her shoulders and down her back and that her bangs were an unruffled curtain over her haunting blue eyes. 

Neela then checked her attire, having switched to a fabric woven vest that hugged at her breasts, keeping them in place. It was purple in colour, possessing small delicate shells as buttons, long flowing sleeves cascading down her arms, almost hiding her hands. The wide collar exposed more of her neck line than what she would normally like, but she wanted to look as beautiful as ever when she finally greeted the Chief after months of seclusion.

It had taken quite the silver tongue to convince her court to follow such a far-fetched whim, each of her council taking the time to dissect her decision with weary considerations and bitter rebuttals. Some even threatened to linger, to abandon the shoal in favour of staying at the shores they knew, fearing more the centaurs than the humans. They argued that at least they knew what the humans would do and knowing was far more reassuring, even when it resulted in death.

Sometimes, they were really no better than the humans they hated.

Naturally, Neela agreed with all their protests and points, admitting herself that she was unsure where this decision would take them, if it was in fact the right one. But she argued that if they stayed, they would die and that was not fantasy but fact. If the moved blindly through the sea, they would grow tired and weary and be easy prey for monsters that could not be tamed. This was their only option and if it did end in death, at least they had tried something rather than waiting, panicked and listless, for the guillotine to swing.

Eventually, when the sun had long since rolled away and the moon had risen to take its place, they moved to where Marigold had indicated. It had taken them five days to reach the beach the centaur had promised them. Said creatures having been waiting patiently along the shore of their arrival.

The beach was everything Neela could have wanted for her court and more. Secluded, beautifully well kept and the sand itself was the perfect consistency for incubating eggs. Most of all, it looked clean of all human influence, the sandy shore not once having been defiled by human interruption.

Below the water was even better. It was a gradual descend into deeper water, not a drop like their last place of residence, and had coral in colours she hadn’t known even existed that flourished and dominated much of the ground below. Fish were abundant and plenty, unafraid of their new neighbours though by all accounts they should have been. Without going too deep, the water was not chilled and not warm, it was a mix of something in between. Perfect conditions for little merfolk when they are just beginning to navigate the waters, which they will be spending much of their time in.

However, there were tensions at first. 

Many of her court either did not trust the centaurs and their kindness, or feared them all together. Tiny disputes had occurred between a few inquiring folks which had erupted into a fight. With the months that passed however, tempers started to die down and most had fully accepted their new lodgings and neighbours. There was only a hand full of her own shoal that wanted nothing to do with the land creatures and believed them liars and human pets. Luckily, they were largely ignored by the time winter had started to come into the picture.

A few had some rather heart-warming goodbyes for each other, those that had been eager and unafraid having made wonderful bonds with the land creatures. Tears were shed, though not from the centaurs, Neela wondered if they could cry, but from the merfolk that hesitantly slipped back into the water. Knowing that it would be some time before they would see each other again. Neela was sure however, regardless if they could cry or not, that the few whom had built friendships with her court were dismayed that through winter, they would be unable to see their companions.

Marigold herself had been present on the day they officially disappeared beneath the waves, promising her that they would continue to guard and protect the land around them. She had been dressed in her armour, as if expecting a fight to break out from somewhere over the horizon, the metal gleaming like glass in the setting sun. Neela could remember her looking so unmoved by the sinking sand and uneven terrain, her form easily carrying her as if it was nothing but a trifle. It made her fins flutter, that and the softened glow of those yellow eyes as they watched her recede into the waters.

As far as their agreement went, they elaborated on the terms. 

At first, it had been only as a form of protection, a way to help both clans survive human encroachment by one covering a place of weakness they excelled in. Marigold and her troops, whom could traverse any terrain of land, steadfast and duty bound, covered the land. Ready and waiting. Neela and her merfolk were ready to sink any vessel that dared to come too close to their little developing utopia, more than willing to drag them down to their death, helpless in their steely clutch and strength in the water.

It was almost too prefect how they complemented each other.

However, as time progressed, they decided more could be done. 

On land, they could grow such a variety of things, items that Neela had never had the opportunity to eat let alone even know the existence of. Fruits and vegetable were something her court loved intensely, taster and far more filling then the seaweed and coral they usually ate for sustenance. By contrast, fishing was hard for centaurs that did not naturally have a knack for the ocean. So Neela and her court made it their mission to help trap and pull ashore nets full of fish. 

Each form of sustenance was equally divided amounts the two clans, only further strengthening the bond they had together.

“Your Highness!” came a frantic, almost breathless voice, nearly muffled by the crashing waves.

Neela immediately sighed and turned around, watching with a mild sense of amusement as Holly struggled to pull herself along the sandy shore. Having not shaken herself off properly, the sand clung and stuck to her slippery body, weighting her down. What would have been graceful moment as she slithered onto shore was now sloppy and uncoordinated. The female almost tripping over her own fins as she fought with the sand and dirt.

It was quite the spectacle to say the least.

Dressed in a similar shawl but a far lighter blue, the hem of which was glimmering with flecks of gold, and a dark undershirt with a high collar underneath, the woman practically flopped onto the sand next to her. Gasping and struggling for breath, she attempted to shake the exasperation off but to no avail, her tail meekly flopping from side to side.

“Yes, Holly?” Neela questioned, mirth clearly evident and to that the other woman groaned in agitation.

A glare leveled her eyes yet it was hardly intimidating. Holly knew her place and if anything, it was simply annoyance that was furrowing her brow and twisting her lips. 

Gasping and sputtering, she attempted to speak, hands clutching her chest. “Why didn’t you take me with you?”

The force of her muscle spasms made her fins jerk back and forth, as if they intended to fly.

The Merqueen smiled softly down at her, “I figured you would have been happier to stay and watch over my court.”

The woman still huffing and puffing, her body no doubt struggling with not only the physical effort exuded but also trying to determine whether or not to breath water or air. Her hopping out of the ocean after so long submerged was not doubt taking its toll. “I gave that job to Aquamarine; my place is at your side.”

Jealousy flared somewhere within Neela, ugly, raw and vile. Looking down at the woman whom she trusted with more than she could truly express, the Queen struggled to understand the conflict of emotions within her. 

It was not Holly’s fault by any means, but competition was still that, competition. She was not so naïve to see what the mermaid’s intentions truly were.

Despite having been terrified at first, reduced to nothing but a pile of shivers and whimpers at nothing but a glance, the last few interactions with the Chief had swiftly uprooted that fear and replaced it with something else. 

Attraction. 

Or at least worship, Holly practically tripping over herself to get into the woman’s good graces. It rubbed all of Neela’s scales the wrong way but only because she had acquired the same desire, her body responding despite her wishes to the mere presence of the towering centaur.

She had been besotted by the sheer confidence the mare exuded, the strength oozing from her every pore without resistance. It was something Neela struggled and wished for, in times of tough decisions and actually standing by them. 

When they had been introduced into the world of centaurs, Marigold had shown stern expectations. 

There were rules and laws, clear and legible. All were expected to obey in order to maintain peace and prosperity within the walls of the centaur metropolis. However, she expressed a side that clearly pulsed and beat for only her people. Above all else, it was evident to Neela that Marigold would sooner cut herself in two rather than do anything to harm or endanger her people. Everything she did, she did exclusively for them and their benefit. Subsequently, the respect that was showered upon her in return spoke volumes of the unflinching loyalty she held amongts her people.

It struck her how dangerous this situation had been for Marigold; how unsure they must have felt over this union. No doubt her people worried and skeptical about merfolk and all the rumors they had most likely overheard.

But Marigold took a chance, believing that it was within their best interest and for that, Neela could barely contain the levels of respect that were building steadily within her.

After coming to realize her devotion to her own tribe, and the risks she had taken in allowing Neela and her court to stay, the fondness grew at an alarming rate.

It was clear to the Merqueen that she was drowning and no powerful tail or clever fins were going to carry her away from the undertow. She was impossibly smitten. A love-struck minnow floundering around close to the surface, desperate and needy to be near the mare that awakened something no other had. 

Perhaps it was the exotic aspect of her being something other than a mermaid, or perhaps the acknowledgement of having another alpha to talk to. Someone whom actually understood what it was like to rule and keep an impassive face, when inside she was screaming and shaking with anxious indecision and fear. 

However, it could have also been that everything Neela lacked as a leader, Marigold personified.

Where Neela waned and fell, Marigold galloped and surged forward undeterred.

If something did happen to falter her gait, the centaur bushed it off as nothing more than dust and charged again.

It was refreshing and alluring to see something so fearless, when all her people had ever known was terror and panic.

“Very well,” relented Neela, turning back towards the arched threshold, “you my come.”

Holly heaved a relieved sigh, though she choked half way and coughed, jerking quickly after her Queen and ruler. “Yes, your highness.”

Just beyond the archway was a vast expanse of flat grass land, wild and long, reaching almost to Neela’s navel if she possessed one. Forests and mountains encircled the area around the clearing, not quite as tall as the ones that sprouted further to the north, but more than enough to offer protection. Although not snow capped, their base was weaved with a canopy of trees and foliage, the sudden incline so steep that it seemed only trees and birds could dare conquer them. 

In the distance, miles away, was a cluster of structures, huddled and tightly pressed together, in the shadow of a tall imposing mountain peak. Even front this distance, Neela could see the scattered towers that watched vigilantly for trouble, no doubt several centaurs loyally pacing tranches across the wood and stone as they waited for sign of attack.

Connecting the colony to the beach was a long winding pathway of stone and rock, smooth and flat, allowing the merfolk to effortlessly crawl their way to prosperous village. Of course, considering how slow this walk would be for them, it would most likely be noon before they reached even the outer limits of the village.

Still it would give her time to think.

Now that all things had been settled, her people had a place to call home and humans were no longer an issue, a new concern had been tossed to the forefront of her mind. 

Her court was now demanding her to bare offspring. 

By all accounts, she should have reared young years ago, but the tension and human dangers proved too treacherous for her to even ponder the idea of mating. Considering the desperate times, having children to raise would have made ruling difficult and her people were far more important. It had never even been questioned during these times of unrest, her people needed to be secure and happy before she could present them with an heir.

More so of course and far more to the point, she had not the need, nor want, of a mate.

Neela liked her freedom, to do as she pleased without having something always pressed at her side like a deadweight. She had Holly and Lola for that, Neela hardly the desire for anything more.

“Shall we begin the trek, your highness?” asked Holly, having finally calmed herself and regulated her breathing.

Neela nodded and pushed her body to move, her scales gliding effortlessly over the smoothed stone.

During their time under the water, waiting anxiously for the return of spring, many males of her order had already come to ask for companionship. They brought her things they had found around the ocean floor, from jewels, to sea glass, to even gorgeous bouquets of coral. All these trinkets were only the beginning, true declarations would be made once they were allowed back on the surface, but the thought and presence of these gifts only made Neela bitter. She wanted trinkets, as any female would, mermaid or otherwise, but she did not want them from these men that were hungry for even a scarp of her acknowledgment.

She wanted Marigold’s attention. More so, she wanted to lavish the centaur with affection.

Nervously, she brought up a hand to feel the outline of the gift in her breast pocket, blushing slight as it shifted against her flesh.

However, as she returned her hands to interlocking with one another, her thoughts rolled into a rather tender spot that had been tearing relentlessly into her side since the winter months began.

Although unisons of same gender were not unheard of in her species, both sides of the sexual coin beautiful and stunning in their own right, such a proclamation would be frowned upon in her situation. As alpha of her court, breed for such, she need to rear offspring to plant the seeds for the next generation. She needed to be sure there was a body to take her place when she finally passed on, either by age or by outside help. Had she had a sibling, the revelation that she wanted a female and not a male wouldn’t have been so upsetting to her court.

However, her mother had only been able to rear her so her density was set in stone.

Another bit of fuel to her fire was the fact of species. She could not even image the reaction of her court if she were to not only admit she wanted a female as a mate, but a centaur no less. She could just envision the uproar, the anger and the chaos such a revelation would ensue. 

Although it was clear that bonds were forming, she could not be entirely sure of their reaction.

Merfolk had only ever bred with merfolk. Yes, there had been some expectations throughout their history but these were few and far between.

She could argue in her favour. Neela could defend her decision that it would be a way of strengthening the bonds between the intersecting courts, allowing interspecies breeding. However, this situation would only truly work in her favour if either Marigold or she had been born male. The whole point, after all, in such a statement was to make something of a fusion between the two species, to show unity through the birth of a physical being.

And given the state of things, that was not possible.

Of course, she had seen how some of her court had taken to some of the centaurs and wondered if perhaps her fear was a little misguided. Many had taken a far deeper liking to the equine hybrids that transcended anything even close to friendship alone. Perhaps they would not be as closed minded as she once had assumed. Holly was actively trying to purse one.

Still her case was different. She had to produce an heir after all.

“Your highness, look!” Holly was pointing further down the road and it bothered Neela that it seemed as if they barely scratched the surface of the distance between them and the town.

Quickly approaching however, was a shape, a centaur hitched to a four wheeled wagon. 

He was tall and slender; his horse section coloured a robust brown with a black mane and tail. His skin however was not pale like Marigold’s but dark, as if the sun had scorched it all away. Like a typical warrior, he was dressed in the armor she had come to aspect from the centaurs. Everything of importance to maintaining life covered in a thick lining of steel, chainmail and leather, safe the head. His short black hair was evenly braided, tightly pulled against the sides of his scalp.

The only thing that was new to the attire was fur, pelts fashioned into thick coats, obviously an addition for the colder weather and it fluttered like a wing behind him.

He stopped his rushed advance to a trot before ambling over to them, the heavy wagon following obediently behind.

Neela recognized him, the scar over his left check ringing something in her memory. “Tobias Ross.”

The male blinked and smiled warmly at her, performing a low and polite bow, “At your service, your highness! I’m glad to see I was remembered.”

Neela smiled and gave a small bow, a mere incline of her head. “You’re part of Marigold’s elite guard.”

His grin almost split his handsome face, his equine foot stomping the ground with evident mirth. “Correct. We saw your advance from the watch towers and thought we would give you and your companion a lift.” He jerked his thumb behind him to indicate at the looming towers before expertly wheeling the cart around so they could climb up from the back.

Neela was pleased to discovered that it was lined with exotic thick blankets and covers, a few pillows strung along the sides for added comfort. It looked wide and long enough to accommodate three other mermaids her size, with still plenty of room for a graceful tail wag. Carefully, using the steps and rails as leverage, both the Queen mermaid and second in command shambled up and into the wagon. It rocked every so slightly with their weight but nonetheless held strong.

Getting themselves comfortable, Neela coiling her tail around her, she flashed the gentle horseman a smile, “Thank you for the lift.”

He waved it off with a smile tossed over his shoulder and a half-hearted wave, “Don’t worry about it. Marigold was very clear. You were to be escorted to her as soon as you emerged from the ocean. I only wish we had spotted you sooner.”

The thought alone made Neela flush slightly, touching the soft lush fabric with an almost feather light caress. 

Although it was far from something the humans would have made, considering they seemed to have a thing for luxury, it was beautiful in the attempt. She felt nothing of the solid wood planks beneath her, her scales sliding so nicely over the smooth fabric. Neela felt mildly upset however that her wet hair and dam body were going to soak such a thoughtful display.

Holly all but sighed into the comfort, looking like she simply wanted to curl into the softness like a fat cat. “We hardly made it that far.”

Neela ignored her, only flinching for a second as the cart started to roll, the centaur pulling the fairly heavy load without so much as a flinch. “Marigold did this?”

“Yes, of course.” He nodded, his gaze straight and fixed on their destination, “She wanted to be sure you rode in style. Now,” he cautioned, “it might get a little rough but I promise to go as gentle as possible.”

With but a flex of muscle, foots pounding forward, Tobias moved his body into more of a trot, gracefully following the road without hitch or complaint.

Much of the trip was in silence, watching the world casually roll by as comfort pressed and cupped every inch of her body. 

Neela observed the populous under Marigold’s command as they passed through the first line of defence of the fairly large town. One of three that housed nothing between its walls but weapons and towers. Each had a fairly sizable divide of space between, each sporting a moat and drawbridge that would most likely be cut away in the event of an invasion. When she glanced below, Neela immediately spotted rows of long spear-like apparatuses, all pointing up, ready and waiting to viciously impale any foolish enough to get knocked down or jump in.

Centaurs of all shapes and colours bowed as they passed, murmuring welcoming praises as they rolled through the courtyard. A few fauns crossed their path as well. Small and quick, they scurried out of the way, holding stacks of rolled parchment in their tiny hands. The centaurs looked to be fixing battle equipment, some using their bare strength, whilst others used the available forge and anvil to make necessary upgrades.

Massive crossbows, that could be wheeled into battle and fire several rounds before reloading, were spread between each wall. Another line of defence should the worst happen. Then, and several other contraptions Neela had not even the words to describe, lingered out in these open fields, ready for battle. 

Several dire wolves were also present, but none of which sported the markings of those she had met in the clearing all those months ago. They were not any belonging to Marigold, but most likely the companions and pets of the centaurs currently occupying the courtyard.

She had learned that the specific group she had come into contact with, Marigold’s wolves, had been trained by the mare herself and only responded to her commands. Most likely, they were guarding Marigold’s current location with a mouth full of fangs that could puncture steel and lacerate chainmail.

Once they passed the walls, they crossed over another bridge and into the city, sounds of commotion and excitement reaching their ears. Smells of cooking filled their nostrils, home cooked meals of all kinds lingering heavy and delicious in the breeze. 

Neela breathed deep, enjoying the scents of fire and roasting meat as well as the lingering smell of smoked fish that made her mouth water. As a mermaid, she was used to eating a very limited diet of things, all mostly raw and tasteless. As such, when the centaurs had introduced her to cooking and the wonders fire could do to things like fish, she and the rest of her court were hooked.

No pun intended of course.

She dared not use such a flippant term, and a touchy one at that, around her people.

The city itself was large, with plenty of space within the many roads and walkways to accommodate wagons and of course the very size of the centaurs themselves. These walkways were paved with intricate slaps of stone, some even depicting epic battles scenes, most likely from their history. Built from heavy logs, stone and steel, the houses that seemed to stretch for miles looked as sturdy as the people they housed. They had passed several fountains on their way in, each as elegant as the next, some of which Neela recognized from her last trip to the centaur city, whilst others were new and immediately captivated her. They had started spouting water again, the ice that had frozen them inactive thawing away and the arch of water gleamed like diamond ribbons in the sunlight.

Their craftsmanship was unparalleled to say the least.

In the distance, she could see what looked like a colosseum, something that her old palace had possessed and she wondered if they used it for the same things they had.

Most of the snow had been cleared away but here and there, patches still remained, clinging like desperate soldiers hoping to brave the storm and hold true to their objective. 

Tobias gingerly wheeled around these mountains of snow and ice, not wanting the ruin the ride for his passengers. It slowed their travel but it gave Neela more of a chance to observe the world around her.

More centaurs bowed and praised her as they passed, one even performing a low bow, both horse legs extended and his back curved. Neela waved politely back and it caused such a grin on his face that he danced around and whinnied before excitedly sprinting off. The display made Neela smile some, even if she didn’t completely understand their behaviour.

A few twists and turns later, passing under iron lamps and over curved bridges, they arrived at a house Neela was familiar with. Like most centaur homes, they were round in girth and wide. The difference of this one however, was not only its size but the swarm of Dire wolves that paced and trekked the parameter of the home. The yellow paint on their armour was a dead give away as well as the one white wolf that was the first to spot their approach.

They howled warningly at first, hackles starting to bristle as they lowered their heads, lips curling up and away from shimmering teeth. Yet, as they drew closer, they sniffed and immediately shied away, recognizing either her or Tobias or perhaps both. Like waves sliding away during the time of low tide, they slipped out of their way, leaving plenty of access to the jet-black door.

Again, as if he had done this thousands of times before, Tobias wheeled the cart around so that the slope of the rear was facing the door. As they dismounted, Neela thanked him for his help and of course the ride.

He smiled at her and bowed, shyly asking, “How was my driving?”

She beamed back up at him, “Excellent.”

Ross stamped his feet with mirth, something Neela could remember seeing regular horses do out in the wild. “Glad to hear it. Marigold is right inside that building. I’ll wait for you here and take you back when you’re done.”

Neela and Holly moved towards the door, unafraid of the dogs that now seemed to have forgotten their presence altogether. Instead they looked around the area with searching eyes, looking of the next contestant to come up to the plate. 

Mindful of the stairs, the pair slipped back the door and into the shockingly warm house, the smell of fire and smoke alerting them to the source of the heat.

The room itself hid nothing, the round circumference containing shelves of books and notes on the left-hand side and what looked to be a merger kitchen to the right. There was not much for decorations other than a few antlers and animal skulls hung up along the walls, as well as a few old swords too dull to do much damaged. Most likely the owners were no longer amongst the living anymore. The complete skeleton of a juvenile Lindworm was pressed against the left side wall between a set of book cases. It was at least twice the size of Marigold and seemed to have been brutally attacked in the head by a sword. Glue and larger leather stitching was holding what was left of the skull together.

Across the floor was a thick golden carpet, symbols of diamonds weaved into the fabric. It looked old and fried but was comfortable against her underbelly as she leisurely slid across it. There were a few cushioned seats as well in the center of the large room, each made from tanned leather. No doubt from several different animals. Furred pelts for warmth were also tossed over the armrests.

Sitting on one of them was none other than the faun Eva, whom watched with scrutinizing blue eyes at the approaching pair, crossing her goat legs and looking away in distaste. Her attire had not changed safe for the addition of a similar cloak akin to Tobias, only shorter to accommodate her much thinner frame.

The fabrication of the chair however was interesting. Fashioned to accept the slope of an equine lower section without being uncomfortable. The upper section, which would hold the front half of the horse body was slightly higher up, and the back of the chair was raised accordingly to meet the high back of the human half.

Two sets of theses chairs were facing each other, a small table, already set with a chess board, waiting meekly upon its glass surface, installed between them. 

Beyond that was the reason they had arrived.

Standing at a fairly heavy looking desk, made of solid oak and polished to a glossy sheen, stood Marigold herself, puzzling over some reports that were strewn rather haphazardly over her desk. Her chair, similar to the leather pair, was fashioned the same way only it was painted black. Behind her, Neela took short notice of two doors, one she guessed let to her bedroom, the other to the restroom.

Those thought alone made her flush, especially when she took in the form of the Chief.

This was the first time she had ever seen her without armor, her upper half covered instead by a loose fitting yellow tunic with a thick dark brown vest over the top. It hugged at her body in a way that left nothing to the imagination, the leather like a second skin and leaving the much looser fabric to bunch elegantly around her neck and arms. A curious large yellow stone, shaped like a diamond hung from a thick golden chain around her neck, its weight resting peacefully on her generous breasts. 

Neela pushed herself to not let her gaze linger there for too long, instead taking notice of the matching brown blanket that was wrapped securely long her equine section. Thick buckles and straps held the piece in place, jiggling slightly together as she moved. Plush black fur lined the hem and collar of the blanket, appearing visibly thicker around the broad shoulders of the horse half. It created a furry boa affect around her wide hips that left Neela unsure of where to look.

Neela felt her heart flutter inside her chest as those molten eyes took notice of them, feeling them trace over her body and it took everything she had not to let her fins flare in answer. Dimly, she wondered how she was going to keep herself from staring, especially with no trace of steel or thick leather to hide what she was now witnessing.

Since submerging below the waves, Neela thought only of the blond centaur, their meetings and brief interactions playing like a song before her eyes whilst swaddled in the depths of her dreams. She’d often think of her, when her merfolk had left her alone to her own thoughts, sitting up top her jeweled throne as Holly rattled on about construction and Lola carved intricate stories into whale bone.

The Merqueen wondered of the simplest things, from what she maybe doing on a day to day basis to some rather un-lady like curiosities. Such things included but were not limited too what the centaur would look like wrapped up in her arms. What would her tail look like pitched over those broad equine shoulders as she traces patterns over the human sections of skin. 

Her desire to know more of the woman whom had answered her cry for help did not diminish during the winter months. It only seemed to fester like an open wound. The more her court, the males at least, pestered her for an inkling of attention, the more she yearned to toss herself out of the ocean, headless of the ice and snow, and fling herself at Marigold’s feet.

It had started as simply wanting to explorer her as a person, to find all the ways in which they were similar. Two leading females attempting to navigate their species through the scourge that was the human race. Now, she wanted to touch and kiss at those tiny scars that covered the mare’s face, map them out with her eager lips and tongue. Wrapped within the cold touch of her seaweed bed, she often wondered, hot with desperation, what it would feel like to have that powerful body pressed against hers.

A whimpered from her right alerted her to Holly’s own internal battle, the female unable to stop her fins from extending and vibrating. Neela wanted to hiss and assert herself over the mermaid that was attracted to her pursuit but she held herself in place.

Luckily, as far as the centaurs knew, and this was not too far of a stretch, such a display was meant in excitement. Not entirely untrue but until Neela could figure out the mare’s position in such affairs, or even if she was openly looking for a mate, the Merqueen didn’t want to go treading violently over the wonderful friendship that had bloomed between them. 

“Queen Neela and miss Holly, it is a pleasure.” She gave them a small bow, the action only making Neela’s heart thunder faster, “I trust things are going well with construction?”

Flashing her a real smile, Neela returned the bow with a waved of her tail. Holly mimicked the action. “Swimmingly, actually. However, there is still much to do I am afraid.”

Marigold raised a brow at this, immediately concerned and braced her hands on the desk to lean over a fraction, her eyes curious. “Anything we can help you with?”

“No, you have done more than enough for us.” Replied Neela hastily, “What we have accomplished is more than enough for now.”

“Very well. I trust however, if there is anything, you will let me know.” Came an even reply, those hands moving to cross tightly behind her back. It was a pose Neela was very familiar with and it made her heart tremble.

Her long silver hair seemed to splash around her head as she nodded, “Of course.”

“Good. Eva?” Marigold called, looking over that the little fawn whom had been busing herself with a stack of reports all her own.

The fawn looked up quickly, eager and waiting, her breath looking like it was going to strangle her as she waited for an order. “Yes, Chieftain?”

“Go find the twins.”

The fawn blinked, though the awe and respect in her eyes did not falter. “Which ones?”

Marigold rolled her eyes hard, not in anger of course, more out of annoyance. It was something Neela decided was cute. “Oh yes, I had forgotten about that small detail. The Gisil twins.”

Eva frowned, her long brown ears flopping backwards in displeasure. “Ah yes, the brutes.”

“They are hardly brutes, Eva.” The Chief scolded harshly, the frown that curved her lips enough to tell Eva of her place and she jumped to her hooves in an instant.

“Yes, Chieftain.” She saluted, lifting up a hoof and crossing an arm over her chest, head inclined.

This seemed to pacify her and the mare allowed her distaste to melt away as quickly as it had appeared. Carefully, she started to gather her papers into piles, selecting certain ones and placing them in the corner of her desk. “I need you to round them up, as well as any other of the elite guard you can find that are not busy with spring repairs. We need to start preparations for the festival.”

The fawn beamed and enthusiastically clapped her hands, stamping her hooves. “Oh yes! The festival!”

Neela piped up at this, immediately curious. “What festival?”

The Chieftain of centaurs made a rather dismissive gesture with her arm, shoving the rest of her loose papers into a pile, deliberately ignoring the happy coos of her little sidekick. “Its simply something centaurs have done for years, a celebration of spring and dismissing the harsh weather of winter. Of course,” her intense gaze flickered to Neela, scorching as it was fierce and it left Neela breathless, “your merfolk are more than welcome to join us.”

Taking a second to try and calm her franticly beating heart, Neela smiled, “It sounds interesting. What does it entail?”

“Anything that goes with celebrating.” Another flippant wave, as if it was hardly worth a second glance, “Music, dance, exchanging of gifts, games and challenges. It gives members of my court a chance to show off, to try and allure a mate. Or in some cases, prove they are worthy. There will also be food and a fairly large bonfire.”

Neela lightly slapped her tail on the floor, immediately excited by the idea. She had never been apart of a celebration that took place above water and it seemed strikingly similar to one they performed after their mating season had run its course. More so, at the mention of gifts, she tenderly stole a ghost of a touch against the item hidden alongside her breasts beneath the many ruffles of her garment.

Perhaps that would be a more appropriate time to give her gift.

“It sounds lovely. Holly?”

The woman blinked, coming out of her awe stricken stupor with a truly confused expression twisting her mug. “Yes, your highness?”

With an incline of her head, hair sweeping magnificently to the side, she gestured the to fawn, “Go help Eva.”

The woman floundered for a second or two, mouth opening and closing like a guppy but no words spilling out from her throat. Holly shook herself, as if too rid herself of it, her blue eyes, for a fraction of a breath, stole a quick glance at Marigold. 

“But your highness-”

Neela frowned, her voice going steely. “-No buts, go help her.”

“Tobias should still be waiting outside, you are more than welcome to use the wagon to help you get around, I’m sure he won’t mind. If he does, he can talk to me.” Piped Marigold suddenly, her voice snapping whatever fight Holly had building within her.

Neela could hardly blame her. 

It was soon their time to breed and no doubt the desire and primal hunger were stewing wickedly within the mermaid’s heart and body. It wanted her to act, the pull of her body having chosen something to pursue. Holly was helpless to its cunning and calculated manipulation, so much so that she would turn on her own Queen to get a chance at a possible mate.

Holly was one of her most trusted advisors and this little spell of rebellion would be over and gone after the mating had taken place. The Merqueen knew however, hers would not. 

Begrudgingly, Holly followed after an excited Eva, both disappearing behind the door as it swung back, effectively shutting out the noise that had smuggled through. 

Silence swept through the room like a heavy hand and Neela wanted to shutter at having the blond all to herself. She was free to talk and converse without another body in the room to steal her rightly earned attention.

The centaur Chieftain looked at her with curious eyes, the gold orbs having watched the pair go, before swaying back to the alpha of merfolk. Her head titled ever so slightly to the side, her arms crossing over her chest. “Something on your mind?”

There was much on her mind. 

Much of its spinning and whirling around the beautiful female before her, wishing that she could just moved next to her without fear of being shunned or tossed aside. Although she knew her court would be furious for her desire to chase and court a creature of another species and a female no less, the merqueen found that as months rolled by like a stone down a hill, that she did not care. If half of them left, she would be all too eager to kick them from her court, let them try their own luck within the embrace of the ocean, to try and find sanctuary free of human influence.

She knew at least half would be open to the union of interspecies companionship. Neela could work with that.

As a mermaid, she would live a tremendously long time and the very idea of spending her entire existence with another mermen, which was several hundred human lifetimes, did not appease her in the slightest. She knew that if her mother still breathed, she would have been disappointed in her life choices, at least concerning forgoing her claim and title for the sake of a centaur. However, she would deal with that when the shadow of death fell upon her and dragged her to where all good sinners go at the end of their journey.

If she met her mother along the way, so be it.

However, much of her concern was the centaur’s reaction.

Her fear was deeply rooted towards that unknown and it kept her wanting and desperate, but clever in her masquerade.

With the great move of her people and the subsequent settling in of both courts, much of their time was delegated towards keeping the peace. There had been very few times they would cross paths unless something dangerous happened, one such occasion a merman of her court had seen a human off their new coast. An investigation proved it was nothing by a trick of the eye but such rare instances were the few times they had been able to sit and talk.

Now that things had settled and the winter was over, Neela was adamant to discover the mare’s position of acquiring a mate. More importantly however, if she could assert her role as Knight’s significant other.

However, it was still too early to make assumptions and if mermaids were anything, it was patient. She would wait and watch and calculate, like a predator mapping out its prey’s routine. It would be easier now that they had access and even invitations to dwell inside the village of the centaurs. As long as they could rejuvenate their scales every now and again, the sun and its elements would not stand in their way.

For now, she would act the part of Queen, because that was what her people needed, even if all of her simply wanted to leave them for not in the ocean.

Remembering she had been asked a question, Neela pulled herself together. “Yes, and I hate to ask this of you, but I want to politely ask that your guardsmen stay away from the beach for the next few weeks.”

When a confused frown furred her brow, the Merqueen quickly added, “If only to save your kin the horror of witnessing many of my court in the thrones of their passion.”

The joke caused a small smile to twist her stern looking features and the Queen of merfolk felt her heart flatter and shiver in its aggressive beating.

“Mating season is upon you?”

She nodded stiffly, trying not to let a heated flush consume her face. “Yes. In a few weeks actually. Once all the snow is gone, it will be perfect conditions for rearing new offspring.”

“I see.” Came a soft response and the grip across her chest slackened slightly. “That is no problem. I only ask that some of your merfolk acquire some fish for the festival. It would be quite the treat, since its not something we can indulge in often.”

Such a meager demand, hardly anything that would take any effort at all. “That’s not a problem, I’ll be sure to get them on it as soon as I get back.”

A ghost of a smile graced the mare’s lips. “Thank you, I hate to ask such a favour with you already holding so much on your plate. This will be the first one since the move and I am sure it is unnerving.”

“It is a little, but the waters of the shore are prefect as well as the beach. Frankly, I would be surprised if nothing hatched.”

Marigold frowned, as if the very idea hurt her more than it should of and it burned Neela with something she could not define, but it was far from anger. No, it was something akin to happiness, but not quite. “Hopefully it will not come to that.”

She blinked, those eyes seeming to sparkle brighter and she gesture to that seat that Eva had once been occupying. “Would you like a seat?”

“Yes,” Neela gasped, having wanted for months to simply sit and converse with the woman that haunted her every waking thought. “very much so.”

She moved with grace towards the chair, gently and carefully placing the discarded paperwork on the table, being sure not to knock over any of the chess pieces. Marigold rounded the outline of her desk to take the other chair, her body gracefully slipping into its caress as if it was some intimate exchange. 

Neela frowned at her thoughts as she slipped into the sofa, immediately grateful for the smooth leather and cushioning pillows. It was nothing like her bed under the water.

This was softer than anything she had ever experienced.

Marigold watched her settle in with eyes that showed so much yet told nothing, the overwhelming intensity of it making Neela shift in an effort to control her burning fins. The centaur seemed to take it for discomfort judging by the concern she showed and to be fair, the slop was not as comfortable for something that did not possess two sets of hips. 

Or was it shoulders? Neela made special note to ask at a later date.

Marigold seemed to teeth on her words, her arms resting on the raised armrest. “I know they are not exactly mermaid friendly…”

The concern was going to tear Neela’s resolve apart, but the agony of it was bittersweet. She was lavished in the centaur’s presence, her eyes and attention focused solely on her. “They are more than comfortable.” She assured, “I wish we could have something similar underwater.”

This caused an interesting display of curiosity to play over the mare’s face, looking intrigued and ready to vocalize something but thinking better of it. This indecision was invigorating, especially on a creature that seemed to know what to do not mater the situation. 

Marigold was breed for battle, to act fast and ready to any threat that happened to crawl out of the darkness. However, it seemed with general conversation she hesitated like a shy yearling. Neela could feel her heart almost gusting inside her chest, very much liking this almost sweet side of Knight.

It only got worse when she finally saw fit to vocalize her question.

“This may seem like an odd question, and perhaps a little out of bounds,” she drawled, her eyes flickering from the chess set to Neela, “but what do you sleep on?”

Her tail would have slapped the cushion in pleasure had she not managed to muffle the urge. It was so unbelievably sweet, that gentle and worried note that rung in her tone. As if such a simple question could have offended her. “I think that’s an extremely fair question. Mostly its on beds of seaweed and for the smaller of my court, anemones.”

The mare blinked owlishly again and tilted her head, her tail giving a flicker. It shimmered like gold within the lighted lamps that hung around the ceiling. “Would they not sting you?”

Neela nodded, “Yes, painfully so, but its more for the protection of the children than anything else. There are no anemones big enough to house me.”

“That is interesting.” It was almost a purr.

Immediately, she was curious to see what the centaurs had believed. “What did your rumors say?”

“Most of centaur kin believed you lived in the wrecked bellies of ships you had sunk, up top mountains of treasure.” Explained the mare, making an almost grand sweeping gesture with one arm, as if their trove was something kings only dreamed off.

“That’s no entirely inaccurate.” Though deep down she wished it was, “Before moving and when we actually had wealth, enough to make a dragon jealous anyway, we would have assigned members to guard our treasure.”

The blond nodded, those curved locks cupping her cheeks bouncing at the stiff movement. Her fore legs, those of the horse, crossed expertly before her, which showed a level of relaxation. Neela was both proud and mystified by it, the seer amount of muscle that was cloaked behind that blanket looking as if it would hinder such a movement. 

“Now that is very interesting.” Her eyes drifted slowly, thinking and remembering to the ceiling, “I’ve seen a dragon trove before.”

The Merqueen gasped in shock, her skin going cold with the very idea and she glanced at the almost forgotten skeleton of the Lindworm. “You’ve faced a dragon?”

The mare spoke of the tale as if it was like a trot through the daisies, “Yes, but only the lesser breeds whom really have nothing but a few precious gem stones at best. Not really even a challenge, they lack the bite.”

“However, the true beast, those possessing four limps and a set of wings, no, I cannot say I have.” Neela was strangely comforted by this, the woman carrying on as if unaware of Neela’s terror.

Sea dragons, or simply serpents, were as old as the original majestic breeds spoken of in all manor of lore and just as respectfully feared. Although they horded no gold, they collected bodies and took great pleased in collecting relics of any species to build magnificent fortress beneath the waves. Though not as powerful as the beasts that dominated the skies, Neela had had the misfortune of running into them during their last travels and was dumbfounded how any could even attempt to kill it.

Regardless, Marigold carried on, “The only one I was aware of and actually witnessed his trove, was a friend of my fathers. His name was Talbot and he ruled over his own harem of dragonesses, six in all I believe, all of which he had lured to his den through his acquired wealth.”

The inclination did not pass over Neela’s head. The note of sorrow struck the Merqueen hard and it made her heart lurch with dread. “What happened to him?”

The Chieftain sighed softly and shifted her weight, the forelegs un-crossing themselves to plant heavy shoe covered hooves on solid ground. They clanked heavily, the metal clearly durable to withstand the might of the foot and body it was attached to. “The dragonesses were lured away by humans and Talbot was killed.” Came a gradual reply, her eyes flickering away towards something behind her but Neela could not tear her eyes away to see what it was. 

“Though he was the largest dragon of his kind, he was old and could barely flame a chicken.” She continued, “From what I hear the dragonesses, upon returning and discovering his corpse, took his wealth and fled. As of their fate, I am unsure.”

Neela frowned and wished she could reach out and touch the mare, comfort her in some way. Though it clearly wasn’t a hinderance on her soul, no doubt the loss had still been a grave one. Not many could make friends with a dragon, most died trying. The Merqueen could only imagine how helpful his power must have been between the impending skirmishes between the oddities and the human race. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She said gently, “Were you close? Did he talk to you?”

Marigold’s frown seemed to deepen and Neela wished she hadn’t bothered to ask, “His vocabulary was very clipped, primitive, he spoke much like a five year-old human would but that was typical of his race.”

Neela had not been aware of such a fact, many having told her that dragons were wise and spoke words that made song writers weep and birds regret to sing. If anything, to hear, uninterrupted, the tender profound dialogue of a dragon. 

“He was closer to my father than anyone else and would give him whatever he wanted.” She paused, her eyes glancing behind her again, though still, the woman wouldn’t dare tear her eyes away. This raw emotion conveyed in those molten eyes, though her face and tone changed not the slightest, was eating Neela alive. 

“He was deeply saddened by his passing.”

Neela fiddle with her fingers, claws tracing claws. “I’m sorry.”

The blond shook her head slowly, “It’s not your fault, besides humans of course but I often wonder how much longer Talbot would have lived.” She paused again, a wisp of anger curling within her eyes, “I also wonder is Blanka had something to do with it.”

Neela found herself shocked again, both by the mention of the foul bird’s name and the fact that Marigold knew of her. Still, she had to be sure it was the same Blanka that had taken the lives of her merfolk. “Blanka? As in the empress of harpies?”

“Yes,” came a slow reply, “you know of her?”

Neela grimaced and clutched her hands into fists, looking down at them, “One of the few beasts I am unfortunately aware of. She was one of the ones I had asked for help from besides you.” She traced her tongue over her small fangs, “She congratulated my courage by eating the messengers I sent.”

“I am sorry for your loss.”

Her tail slapped the chair despite herself, wishing she had only looked deeper through her mother’s tones and notes, if she had, those few she sent would still be alive. “I only found out later that she was a manipulative foul looking bird, whom loves and cares for only herself. I’ve even heard she eats the members of her own court if they act out of line.”

Marigold nodded stiffly, her arms crossing over her chest, “I’ve heard the same rumor and quite frankly, I believe it. My father tried to make peace with her when the human’s started gaining the upper hand. She rewarded his efforts by taking one of his eyes.”

Neela gasped, now tremendously grateful that she had not made the journey herself. “That’s terrible!”

“I hear that she keeps it in a tiny glass jar and wears it proudly around her neck.”

“I guess I should be thankful that she didn’t invite me to the mountain.” Responded Neela bitterly, “But, why do you believe she had a hand in Talbot’s demise?”

Marigold shifted again, her horse legs crossing while her arms perched on the armrest, hands weaving together to stabilized her chin. She looked like the general her people claimed her to be, a brilliant tactician looking for a weak spot to exploit with the eyes of an eagle. 

It made Neela shutter in pleasure to have those eyes fixated on her.

“A few things do not add up.” She began, the frown on her face thin, “For one thing, Talbot lived on a mountain peak that was only a little shorter than that Blanka currently resides in. Its step and treacherous. For that reason, most humans, whom have very limited stamina, would have been killed by the elements long before ascending to his place of rest. Further more, only other mythical creatures, and few at that, were actually aware of Talbot’s nesting place.”

Neela considered this, one of her hands reaching up to hold her chin in thought, “So you think a mythical beast ratted him out.”

“Only a few would gain anything from it.” She shrugged, hands still interlocked, “The dragonesses and Blanka. The dragon females, however, were far stronger than him and it would be foolish to believe that if they truly did not like living there, they would not have simply considered the option of slitting his throat and taking his den as theirs. Nothing accept the promise of sex and gold kept them there. They could have left easily, with or without killing him.”

Dimly it occurred to Neela that all her assumptions and the rumors she heard about dragons being brave and noble, kings both grand and without flaw were terribly wrong. They behaved more like a common animal then something mystical. If anything, it only proved that although they were the strongest of the magical species, they were by far the weakness mentally.

Brain always triumphed over brawn, and humans were nothing if not clever.

They had killed many dragons and this she knew to be a fact and not simple gossip for other creatures like herself to chew over like a cow would its cud.

The Chieftain continued, her heated gaze intensifying, “Blanka however, has a more personal motive. She believes she is a perfect being, being one of the few beasts that can fly and her heavenly white feathers only seem to stroke her ego further. More so, she does not like to share and their mountain peaks were within a few hundred miles of each other.”

“So she killed him to get the mountain for herself and framed the humans?” questioned Neela, “Or helped the humans get to Talbot?”

“I am not entirely sure.” Was her honest answer, “It seems unlike Blanka to allow anything other then herself to touch her person, so helping the humans up a mountain seems like a stretch.”

Her hands unlocked themselves to hold her own chin, mirroring Neela, only her free hand came to rest on the junction of her elbow. “There was, however, a white feather, about as long as me, found in the tunnels of his den. It could have simply blown inside, they are within close proximity of each other after all. But I am unsure.”

Neela was unsure of how she felt about knowing the size of Blanka, having imagined that she would have been roughly the same size as herself or Marigold. If one feather could drape itself over the centaur, Neela shuttered to imagine the size of the ancient harpy that gazed, hungry and jaded, from her mountain peak.

“I’m still sorry for your loss.”

Marigold moved her hands to her lap, straightening her back. Her eyes, like tiny suns, glowed as they stared back at her, burning with something Neela wished to understand. “Its one of the reasons why I have been keen on helping other mystical creatures. Talbot, human or otherwise, was only the beginning. It seemed after his death, things started to spiral out of control.”

Most assuredly she was referring to the great wars that dominated the land, humans lunging into battle with more vigor and spite ever truly seen before. Many on both sides were lost, kings and queens, mortal or otherwise, beheaded and dragged through the dirt as war ensnared the landscape. Blood and gore lingered like tattoos in its wake and many rumours suggested that the sites of this great conflicts still gleamed red. They even believed that despite the years and rains that had come and gone, that nothing would truly wash away the sin that had drenched the earth.

Merfolk had been one of the few clans to avoid these wars and only because of their connection to the sea. Land was claustrophobic and tight and there was only so much room. One land, it was easier to collide with an opposing force. In water, endless and stretching, the odds for capsizing and being lured to their deaths kept many from seeking battle with those that dwelled beneath.

You could not fight what you could not see and Neela truly believed this was why her clan was only ever treading on the map of destruction when they dared to beach on sand and dirt.

Part of her only felt shame for being so completely unaware of the battles that had been waged, her clan simply disappearing beneath the waves and letting the world burn if only to safe they own skins. Weak and cowardly. There were simply no other words for it. No wonder the rest of the world believed them dead, they showed little to no care, partaking in nothing that meant risking their own skins.

It only made her heart swell to bursting as she looked at the noble warrior before her, no doubt having taken part in so many of these fights, doing all she could. The mare had come to her aid, the aid of a Merqueen whom had done nothing but lie and cry over the trials of her people when far worse was enfolding across the land above her head.

Smiling up at her, she hoped to convey her gratitude again, if only to have the mare hear it and hopefully understand the depths of it. Even if only a little. “I can’t thank you enough for all you have done for me, and although I wish it didn’t stem from loosing a companion, I honestly don’t know what I would have done without your aid.”

Their eyes locked and she could feel the intensity of it, making a pleasant shiver rattle down her dorsal fin. “I doubt we would have lasted five more summers.”

A matching grin, this one small, reflected on the blonde’s face. “I have to thank you as well. Though it was to strengthen our hold and protect our boarders, I cannot deny that your court has been more helpful than I could have imagined.”

She paused suddenly, looking as if she was rethinking her words and she grimaced hard, “Wait, that came out wrong. I did not mean for that to sound like a back handed comment.”

Neela laughed, her fins fluttering against her in mirth. “No need to worry, I know what you meant and believe me I’m glad.”

Truth be told, it was accurate despite that not being the true intention. Out of the water, mermaids were practically useless. Slow and heavy, they dragged against the earth to move and were easy prey for anything that happened to be strolling by. They did not have much to offer other than songs and dances, strong fins to help herd swarms of fish into the nets of the centaurs. To add more fuel to the fire, besides the weaving of clothing and jewels, there was not much in luxury when living as a mermaid. 

They slept on rocks and used coral for almost everything.

Humans spoke of them owning magnificent palaces that possessing technology beyond anything the world had seen. Although they did create beautiful stone towers, they had nothing to offer the world above that would move them forward in anyway.

The mare nodded; no doubt glad she had not offended the other leader of their alliance. “Good. The last thing I want to do is insult you. That was never my intension.”

The sincerity had Neela’s heart preforming flips.

“To be fair,” she began slyly, “I did insult you the very first time we met.”

She of course had never forgiven herself for such a terrible comment, especially taking into consideration what the centaur tribe had done for them. If the ability of time travel had been possible, to fly through the months and slither out on the stone floor next to her younger self, she would have slapped her. 

Neela could still hear her cruel tone in her voice, ringing like an echo inside her skull. It sounded not like a leader and more like an impotent child.

However, Marigold shook her head again, resting her arms on the rests again. Her tail flickered, almost swatting over her thighs. “You were scared, nervous” she reasoned, her posture and tone reflecting the weather worn warrior she was, “and you wanted results for your people. I cannot fault you for that.”

“Thank you.” She whispered, flushing despite herself, eyes once again falling on her lap, tracing the delicate patterns of her scales with her clawed fingers. 

Silence took root again but it was not uncomfortable, Neela enjoying this moment of chatter, something unregulated by rule alterations and changes to village constructs. This was the first real conversation they had besides the ones concerning her clan’s survival and Neela was eager to keep it going. If anything, it was a way to hear the woman’s voice and memorize its pitch and falls.

Looking up from her hands she saw the mare staring at her with question, her tail swishing silently back and forth. It flickered and seemed to reflect light, creating a glorious flash of yellow light. “So please,” Neela began, leaning more comfortably in her chair, “tell me more of this festival, what’s it called?”

Seeing her relax, the mare attempted to do the same, though the movement was barely noticeable, a flicker of a muscle, a twitch at best. However, Neela had seen it and licked her lips, ecstatic to see the stern general of centaurs attempt to be less intense. Pleasure purred through her veins as those golden eyes traced the journey of her tongue. Her fins shook. And it was all for her too see.

“It’s usually called the festival of spring and merry. Its almost as old as the centaur’s existence.” She started, “Its much of what I mentioned earlier and its going to be celebrated a week from now.”

A pause. An eyebrow moved to hitch itself high on her forehead. “Are you thirsty?”

Neela flushed and fought to not cover her face, “No, I’ve spent enough time in water. I am hungry though.”

Marigold seemed to think this over before elegantly standing up from her chair, that long jacket over her massive form fluttering like the very fins down Neela’s tail. “Wait just a moment.”

Hooves clanked against the hard-stone floor as she moved around the table and passed Neela’s current position. Curiosity convinced her to follow the mare’s path, turning around in her chair to the best of her abilities, observing the blonde’s path to the kitchen. She then proceeded to go fishing through some of the cabinets, looking intently for something.

There was not much, merely a few cabinets, rows of hanging herbs and spices, drawers and a sink. Neela had been surprised at first that centaurs had found a way to manipulate water to the point of making it move from one location to the next through thin long pipes. Simply twisting a knob would cause the water to flow and another could simultaneously heat it as well.

She wondered if humans had yet mastered this, since they seemed to be just as clever and cunning in craftsmanship as dwarves and apparently centaurs.

It was upon her observation that she noticed a painting hung only a few feet from the location of the kitchen, something she had missed entirely before. It depicted a centaur, covered in golden battle armor that gleamed and shimmered like a star, standing tall and picturesque, with only his head exposed. His sword was drawn but pointed towards the dirt, his hands wrapped leisurely around the hilt. A mountain and a large lake were blurry and a fog of colour behind him, causing his fearsome silhouette to stand all the more pronounced. He was the center of attention. It was his square face and blond hair that acquired her attention, as well as the detail that he was missing one eye, his right.

There was no question that this painted creature was Marigold’s father, if the eye and hair colour was anything to go by. She noticed however that his remaining eyes was grey, not yellow.

Perhaps a trait she acquired from her mother?

Speaking of which what happened to her?

The sound of Marigold turning around caused Neela to whirl back into her seat, trying to pretend that she had not been peeking, like a naughty tadpole.

Gingerly, the blond rounded her chair and offered a plate full of crackers and cheese. “Here,” she said softly, as if fearful she would not accept the food. “its not much but its something.”

Neela happily accepted the offering, watching with a sly grin as those large hips swayed over to her seat, promptly slinking back down into its embrace. Again, merfolk didn’t have that very large of a diet, it was relatively narrow and now, after having sampled so much of centaur cuisine, either traditional recipes, or something they picked up along the way, Neela wondered how she and her court had survived.

Coral, seaweed and fish were not exactly something extremely delicious to have three times a day, every day, till life was taken from you.

“Thank you.” She said graciously, popping a crunchy cracker in her mouth before continuing on, “As you were saying?”

“Yes, quite.” She rolled her shoulders, as if to relive some tension there, “Its simply a time for my court to shed their armour, dance and frolic through the fresh spring grass. There is music and food for all.”

Neela nodded, munching on another cracker, this time slapped with a generous amount of cheese. Her fins fluttered, a question she had been dying to inquire over popping like seafoam on her tongue. “You mentioned something about finding mates.”

“Yes I did.” Came a rough reply, as if the mere though caused a ripple of disgust along her body. Neela was not to sure how to respond to that. 

“Usually, both female and male tribe members will be receptive to finding a mate during this time, usually for life long companionship. We mate for life so this festival, along with a few others we celebrate, are used as tools to determined the best choice.”

She took a second to ponder over her words and Neela ate another cracker. “The festival is not so much for sex, as if it for finding a strong partner.”

Neela blinked, curious by still weary, “You determine this through competitions?”

“Yes.” Another stiff nod, “Or often what is the case is this celebration of the new life, mares and stallions alike will confess hidden attractions to an aloof or stubborn mate of interest.”

The Merqueen smiled softly at this, the festival seemingly like it was the perfect way of figuring out Marigold’s angle. “Its sounds strangely romantic.”

The mare rolled her eyes, but the faint smile and tone assured Neela that she was only joking. “I suppose it is. It lightens the spirits of my people after the harsh winter so I continue the festival traditions to give them something to look forward to.”

Wait, did this imply that Marigold herself did not like the festival?

Neela frowned, her hopes of using this celebration as leverage diminishing like stone dust between her fingers. Restlessly, she scraped her nails over her scales. “You don’t participate?”

Again, another shake of her head, “Not usually.” It was like a stab to Neela’s heart, “If I do, its too push a would-be Chief aside.”

This caused Neela to blink a few times before swallowing her dry cracker. “I don’t understand,” she began, setting the plate down on her lap, “you are the Chief, aren’t you? Doesn’t blood guarantee you the spot?”

“No.” came a stern answer, an eyebrow hitching up again in question, “Is that how it works in your court?”

Neela nodded, her hair flashing a metallic silver as if fell over the curve of her neck. “Yes. I was born from an alpha coupling, which is rare since often there is only one alpha in each colony of merfolk. Usually said alpha must mate with that of a lesser mermaid in order to produce offspring. By all accounts I am a pure bred. However, it is possible for two common merfolk to conceive an alpha.”

She frowned, thinking that if everything did work in her favour, there was always the possibility of her court managing on its own without her. Nature thrived on balance and if she did go before an heir was achieved, they would find a way to replace her. Truly, her right to rule was not as absolute as she would have liked it to be. “It only occurs however if the current is gone.”

“I see. That is interesting.” Said Marigold, fingering her pointed chin again in thought.

The Merqueen hastily gobbled another piece of cheese, hoping it would drag the rush of devastation rising in her chest along with it. “What about you?”

The Chieftain straightened her spine with pride, her hands now gripping the armrest. Her tail flickered. “A Chief is chosen by bravery of battles or by popularity of vote. My father was chosen for both, his noble quests to fight off humans and his devotion to his tribe. These favorable attributes allowed him to take the mantle with little resistance.”

The blond frowned softly, her eyes glazing over with memory, “However, many whom believed themselves better for the job tried and failed to knock him down.”

The thought shocked Neela deeply. “Others will try on the day of the festival?”

“As a sign of new life, yes, they may try. Out with the old and in with the new as they say.” The casual acceptance lingering in her words did not sit well with Neela, her heart quickening at the aspect of her love interest being toss aside by some weak inexperienced stallion or mare. 

No, her fins flared despite herself and she tried to ignore the look of concern that flashed over the mare’s face. 

Regardless she carried on, studying her with new found interest. “They think it will serve them in their favour. Although the last few hundred years I have been undefeated.”

This cooled the agitation that was building steadily within her but still, something nagged and bit like a rabid dog within her chest. Yet, as she spoke, Neela’s heart clutched with trepidation, not sure if it wanted to know the answer. 

She licked her lips, tasting her fear. “What happens if you loose?”

Marigold shrugged, as if they were merely conversing over the weather. “If that happens, I will either be stripped of my title and be not but a simple soldier or be kicked out of the tribe altogether.”

Neela gasped aloud, hands flying over her face so quick she nearly spilled her plate of food all over the floor. 

She looked at Marigold with an expression she knew had shocked her, no doubting seeing the tears that would threaten to fall if pushed too far. Her court was familiar, intimately so, with this expression and consequence, Marigold was not. The mare looked unsure of how to proceed and was most likely fumbling with what she had done wrong.

The Merqueen however could barely keep her emotions in check, her mind flashing with probabilities of the blond vixen that had stolen her attention begin tossed outside to the monsters that lingered beneath greened canopies. The woman that had saved her clan, thrown away like trash, a fleshy sack that only took up space. Her fins trembled with sadness, creating a light humming noise that stole Marigold’s attention for a few seconds.

“That’s terrible!” she cried, slapping her tail against the chair. Demanding with extended claws, “Why would you allow this?”

Knight watched her with concern and pity, as if she was saddened by the fact Neela couldn’t understand something so fundamental. She crossed her arms again, that jewel resting on her breasts gleaming as it rose and fell with each breath.

“It helps balance a few things.” Was her stern statement.

Neela wiped one stray tear, one that had rebelled and fallen, off her cheek. Her eyes were steely, insistent and upset. “How?”

Marigold frowned and seemed to be attempting to find the words to best convey her situation. “For one, if the current leader made unlawful decisions and led the tribe into calamity, this would give the tribe a chance to overthrow said leader and toss him, or her, to the wolves. For another, sometimes change is good, it gives the tribe something new, a stallion or mare with fresh new ideas that could help improve conditions for all within our tribe.”

It made sense, but from their encounters, Marigold was none of these things as far as the first point was concerned. As for the second, she had seen herself first hand the powerful weapons Marigold had designed for combat, something that would have taken humans years to prefect and by the time they did, the blond would have built something better. Why had stupid power-hungry fools tried to knock away something that was helping them?

Who had given so much of her life and effort for them?

She had heard whispers of her great deeds and it was clear her respect amongst the people was far stronger than anything Neela could ever hope of obtaining. They looked and bowed for her without even thinking, as if they were praising some type of goddess whom had decided to grace them with her eternal presences.

Still, this was far from her place to judge. These were their rules and unfortunately, she would just have to grin and bare it.

“I understand,” she breathed, using the sleeve of her dress to wipe way any residue of water. “but I still think its very unreasonable.”

“Perhaps,” Marigold began, offering the mare offering a small smile in sympathy, “but this is how we have done things. I cannot change them now.”

She paused, looking over her face, “I see that it upsets you, why?”

Neela swallowed, her fingers tapping gingerly on the surface of the ceramic plate in her hands. Her eyes dipped down to look at the plate she had torn halfway through. “I think you’re a fantastic Chief and I don’t think any of the possible candidates could hold a candle to you.”

Perhaps this answer was far too candid, after all, she still hadn’t an inkling of knowledge over anything of the Chieftain’s personal life. She could have already chosen a mate and had a child or perhaps there were rules similar to her own about only courting for offspring to take the mantle and crown. 

However, the reaction her admission had invoked, gave her hope, an ember smoldering like a tiny light within touchable darkness.

The massive mare flushed, the smallest dusting of red over the bridge of her nose and it made Neela’s heartbeat quicken and her fins jerk at her sides. The blond looked away for a second, trying to reign herself in and within a second, the smear was gone. However, Neela’s hope only rose and fluttered in its absence, having seen it.

“That is very kind of you,” she said softly, her back relaxing against the back of her chair, even if only by a degree or so. “I do not believe I am worthy of such a declaration.”

Having acquired a morsel of affection, Neela was no better than the fish that fell for the fishermen’s hook. She flushed herself, her pectoral fins pawing at the leather beneath her. “I think you are.”

The centaur looked ready to add something, a truly tender expression on her face, something that was far beyond what Neela had seen up until this point. It made her scales blister and her fins flutter. 

However, before she could voice anything, a knock sounded proudly and stern on the door. 

Marigold’s face melted into a stern façade that was most familiar and Neela felt a pang of sadness. The warrior mask in place, voice taught and unflinching, she turned towards it and commanded whomever it was to enter.

It rolled open on its hinges, revealing a smug looking Eva and a frustrated Holly.

Without missing a beat, the fawn trotted over with hands clasped behind her back, looking up with awe at her leader. Her little tail was waging so hard that it was causing her hips to shift. “I have rounded up the twins, my Chief! As well as a few others, such as the three Topaz sisters, Citrine, Evelyn, Moira, Beau, Douglas and Constance.”

She used her fingers to count them off, some of the names Neela familiar with, others, not so much. Immediately, the Merqueen figured they were part of the elite guard, much like Tobias and the only reason he was not looped into the group was he was going to be their escort back to the beach.

Holly said not a word as she slithered up to Neela, ignoring the fawn as she prattled on, leveling a glare that could have reduced her to ashes if a mermaid had the power to do so.

The Merqueen smiled, whispering a soft, “Hello, Holly.”

The mermaid flinched and bristled but said nothing, her eyes tracing up the massive legs that supported the mare Chieftain.

Marigold pushed herself out of the chair and spun around the face the fawn, arms moving behind her own back. “Good, we may go and start collecting what is necessary.”

Curious again, Neela stood and slipped out of her own chair, looking up at the towering centaur in question. “What are you going for, is its not too bold for me to I ask?”

“Hunting.” Was her response, the fawn practically dancing out of her fur with excitement, “We need certain things that are a staple to the tribe at the time of the festival.”

“I see.” She said, placing the left overs on the table over the documents.

The Chieftain turned to look at her loyal fawn, “Tell them to saddle up, Eva. And be sure to tell Gilford that he is in charge until my return. I am sure he is still inside the colosseum.”

A salute, like the one before. “Yes, Chieftain.”

Quick as the wind, she dashed out the door, carefully shutting it after her, but not fast enough for the three of them to miss her shrill barking. The surrounding dogs answered in kind, howling with joy at the idea of hunting and tracking, no doubt slobbering and licking their jowls. 

Neela laughed and Marigold rolled her eyes. Holly only groaned in agitation, her fins shaking with annoyance.

Gently, the blond offered Neela to go first with a sweeping gesture of her hand. The Merqueen obeyed, only stopping with an equine leg rose to stall her movements, the knee and elbow banding, like a dog raising its paw. Golden eyes searched her face and Neela was sucked into those gorgeous eyes, now able to pick out the flecks of orange that were sprinkled over the yellow of her eye.

“As I said,” came a soft rumble from somewhere in that delicious chest, “you are more than welcome to come and join us, if it does not end up overlapping your merfolk’s own festival.”

Her heart wavered again and she nodded, “I doubt that and we would love too.”

She would force them all to go if she had too. Afterall, they could not simply sit and twirl their thumbs anymore at the bottom of the ocean floor. They were interwoven into the community now, its high time they started acting like it.

“I wish you luck and hopefully, I will see you later.”

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So, this second chapter had already been done the day I uploaded the first. It needed a bit of tweaking and I wasn’t sure if I was going to get it done within the next day or even the next week. But it seems good fortune had smiled upon me and, behold! It is done! I cannot guaranty, however, that the others will be just as fast, for I am working on several other side projects I hope to post here eventually, but hopefully, there is enough in this chapter to be interesting enough to look over. 

I hope you all enjoyed it and please let me know what you think in the comments! <3 <3 <3


	3. Desire burns without respite, but reality is a cold splash of water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Humans are growing bolder in their attempts to wipe her and her people off the face of the earth. If it had not been for the necessity of breeding, she and her kind would have stayed beneath the waves where they belonged. But their eggs need air and sandy beaches, their mothers nestled up top and patient. They need help in protecting themselves in their most vulnerable of states. Neela, queen of her mermaids and mermen, invokes the help of another breed for assistance. They meet for the first time and almost as soon as the sun casts its glow, she is love struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> \- Blue Diamond – Queen Neela  
> \- Yellow Diamond – Chief Marigold, Marigold Knight  
> \- White Diamond – Empress Blanka  
> \- Blue Pearl - Lola  
> \- Yellow Pearl – Eva Tempest  
> \- Holly Blue Agate - Holly  
> \- Yellow Agate – Hildegard and Hiltrude Gisil  
> \- Pink Diamond – Queen Primrose
> 
> Courts:  
> \- Blue Diamond’s court – Mermaids and mermen  
> \- Yellow Diamond’s court - Centaurs  
> \- Pink Diamond’s court - Dwarves  
> \- White Diamond’s court – Harpies
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Humans are the enemy  
> \- Mermaids and men can live above water, they come on land to breed and lay their eggs, though courtship is performed underwater and above. They wear sea glass and shells and elegant clothing woven from the hair of beasts.  
> \- In the West, full of mountains and spanning flat lands, live the centaurs. They are known for their fighting prowess and strength. They earn the right to do anything within their tribe and clan through fighting. They are almost always wearing armor and the pelts of their kills.  
> \- To the North, hidden in the mountains are the Harpies, they live secluded from everyone else and believe everyone is inferior to them for they can fly. They covet previous items such as gold and diamonds.  
> \- Blue will fall for Marigold almost instantly. Bellow story I don’t care if you don’t like.  
> \- This will be short however if it is liked I will expand. Also, to that note, Pink Diamond will most likely make an appearance in the second part of this story if I choose to continue it beyond the scope of what this part of the tale describes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, this whole thing is purely for fun.

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Chapter 3  
Desire burns without respite, but reality is a cold splash of water

The warmth of the sun was gradually fading into obscurity. A faint whisper against the flesh as night crawled, heavy and intent, over the horizon. With its encroachment, dark as it was foreboding, it brought with it an evening chill that rattled her scales. 

In was nothing compared to the kiss of winter, but the Merqueen was thankful for the raging bonfire that the centaurs had diligently constructed and lit. It towered over everything in sight, a gargantuan multitude of scorching hot tongues that danced and flickered to the beat of skinned drums that pulsed and thrummed with some primal need. It appeared to spur the flame into action, the plumes intertwining and licking up each other in time with the steady rhythm of their call.

The colossal shape of light and heat seemed to want to touch the darkening sky, flickering and licking as it strained itself higher and higher. Smoke bellowed across the horizon; a smear of grey that gleamed with flung embers that glinted across the hazy underbelly like fireflies. Though it sat proudly in the center of the colosseum, a blaring spectacle for all too see and marvel, Neela could feel its raging heat as if she stood only an arm’s length away. It both soothed and terrified her, such a twisting column of flames looking too foreboding to ever completely control. Yet the flames were helplessly confided to one location, far from anything remotely flammable. The pit for which it had been erected and stoked made entirely of stone. 

The pit itself was six feet deep, one centaur had told her so, as he had helped her into the main stand, where two perfectly craved and jewel laden thrones sat. 

One was decorated with thick yellow sashes and jewels, fashioned to properly seat a centaur with plush cushions for comfort. It looked older, having no doubt sat in that exact stop for centuries through the different eras of centaur Chieftains. The other was new, built to accommodate her unique build and was draped in sashes but of blue, a large stone of blue diamond pressed into the top decor of the throne. Unlike the throne of the centaur, which possessed a curled base and raised arm rests, hers was but a regular chair with a ramp for easy access. However, a hole had been craved in the back rest, a cushion extending beyond the intrusion.

It allowed her tail to flow naturally behind her and rest on something soft.

She was deeply grateful, for just like the festivals the mermaids threw, the one of the centaurs started at the rising of the sun and had carried on till the evening. Quite a long spectacle to be sitting on something hard and unforgiving. It was almost as if she was merely throwing two celebrations instead of just one. Something she was sure her court enjoyed all the more.

The section dedicated to their thrones was shaped as an emperor’s box, reserved only for them and with an excellent view of the competitions that waged beyond their sculpted balcony posts. 

Before them was a table overloaded with foods and beverages, fruits of all kinds were stacked and pilled into shimmering golden bowls and oval plates. Meat was also offered, a stuffed pig nesting on a blanket of greenery and vegetables, sauce cascading down its swollen girth. Yellow flowers were placed over the eyes, hiding the empty sockets. Fish, all of it what her clan had been able to lure into the centaur nets, were also present. Decorated in much the same way only with a slit craved from throat to tail, they were stuffed with herds and lemons and a white sauce that dripped eagerly onto the silver plate.

Pitchers of water, juice and of course alcohol, were placed along the length of the table, glass sparkling and gleaming within the light of the fire that continued to rage and snap.

This table was an offering to them and for a moment, Neela was terrified that she would somehow have to consume it all. Of course, Marigold assured her that this was not the case, that she could take as she wanted. The true purpose of the table, was for the winners of the competition to be allowed to eat from it.

This confused Neela further, which prompted the centaur to explain.

Their food was exactly the same as the food that covered tables offered to the courts of both kingdoms. All having been cooked and prepared by the same kitchens and cooks, the only real difference was its location. It was an incredible honor to eat from their table, for it had been picked at by the Chieftain and his or her family, the leaders and protectors of the centaur tribe. It was considered to be a blessing to be allowed a morsel at the table of alphas, an acknowledgement of their strength and cunning during the competitions. To centaurs, it was a reward greater than any golden laid metal or diamond encrusted trinket.

Many had come to take but a handful from their table, the centaurs that had been the most resilient allowed to take from their plate. A pair of females, twins and blond, had bowed so low that their noses had touched the floor. Robust and thick with curves, they eagerly took but an apple slice from Marigold’s plate before retreating into the crowd of tribe members below. Neela had recognized them almost immediately, the two females that had flanked Marigold’s sides the day they had met.

Known as the Gisil sisters, they were identical, a perfect mirror representation of one another, right down to the tear drop shaped birth mark on their hips.

Both were amazing sword fighters, moving as if they were an extension of one another. It was apparently common practice for them to be welcomed into the box on such a festival. Marigold favoured them and their loyalty. Having witnessed them in competition, Neela was quick to understand why.

As for the colosseum itself, the structure, though intricately craved from pillar to pillar, was not nearly as large as some of the others she had happened to see. Those at least that had been crafted by human design. However, it was still magnificent as it was wide, tall enough for five rows of seats to loop around the inner edge of the battle dome. Flags flapped in the chilled breeze, flashing colours of yellow within the distance as torches were lite along the lowest levels. Statues of rearing centaurs, female and male alike, lined the wall of the battle area, each wielding a weapon that looked as ferocious as they did.

The Merqueen watched with baited breath as the two combatants clashed down within the stadium ground below. Their shimmering swords striking heavy and hard against each other, every collision sparking a roar of excitement form the crowd. Within the swell of noise, she could hear the cries of her people, ecstatic to see two titans rush towards one another with such wild abandon, dirt flying into the air as hooves tore and ripped the earth. 

Neela however, could not bring herself to join in the heated chorus of excited chanting, the clapping of hooves, hands and tails against stone lost on her ears. Instead, her heart fluttered with unease, she staring transfixed as Marigold sparred against another centaur, her magnificent body powering through thrusts and parries as if not but a dance.

It was elegant in its execution, not a swing or thrust wasted. Each blow was calculated and planned, from the placement of her hooves, to the weaving over her strides. The flames bathed her golden armor in an orange light, enhancing its splendor and giving the polished metal an unearthly glow. It was as if the light was licking up her glossy armor with the love and tenderness of a lover.

Gold battled red, twirling in a dangerous match by booming fire light. The centaur whom propositioned a challenge, bending a knee and sweeping low when he had walked with respect towards their thrones, wearing crimson painted metal as his armour. He was lighter than Marigold, his horse half slender in legs and muscle, using his speed and quick reflexes to his advantage. However, it was as if the blond knew where and when he was going to strike, predicting his moves before he could even think them. All his sword seemed to hit was her shield, which effortlessly bounced its hard swings off its gleaming surface.

In a whirlwind of sand and dirt, sparks flaring like lights around them, they danced to the rhythm of the drums that bounded on, eager and waiting.

Before, Neela had watched with fascination and awe of their games, brilliantly skilled archers piercing their arrows through targets still or otherwise. Races were also done, stallions and mares breathlessly chasing each other around the outer rim of the colosseum. There had been music, sung in a language Neela couldn’t begin to understand, though she had flushed when Marigold had hummed quietly to the tune. The flow of food was never ending, like the energy and power that these four-legged beasts displayed so effortlessly. They toasted and cheered, bucking and kicking like yearlings testing out their legs for the very first time, excited for a year that would be better than all others.

The crowd gaped as the red armored stallion was tripped, Marigold dodging a heavy handed thrust and moving her foreleg up under this stomach. He flipped and rolled forward with his momentum, his sword launching and embedding itself into the dirt several feet away. The sound of his weight and armour hushed a moment of silence over the watching masses, his chest heaving with effort as he lay defeated upon his side.

Neela breathed a sigh of relief as the crowd sparked back to life after a second and cheered, heated howls only intensifying as the noble Chieftain moved beside the fallen male to help him up.

He bowed low for her, thanking her for the chance before carefully limping off to retrieve his sword. A few centaurs moved to congratulate him none the less, slapping his armored flank and running fingers through his long black hair. One offered him a pint and he slugged in back like a starving man.

Neela however, watched with a still hammering heart as Marigold gracefully climbed the slope of the ramp and into the box, carefully sheathing her sword. Her Dire hounds, whom had been laying happily under the canvased top of the box perked at her return and jumped to their feet. They panted and barked in joy, taking playful nips, more jowl than teeth, at her ankles and hooves, as if unable to fully express their joy.

The Chieftain patted them each at least once before shooing them away, the massive hounds moving swiftly towards furred mats that were woven especially for them.

This armor was radically different from the one she had worn upon their first meeting, painted a golden yellow that rivaled her breathtaking eyes. It was substantial and durable, with pointed shoulder pads and a helmet that only left her eyes visible. A brayette and crupper were also added, covering more of her equine front and rear quarters, from attacks.

This was the seventh challenger, all rights to fight their long-standing Chieftain having begun after the last competition had been declared.

The crowd screamed for more but it seemed no other centaur was willing to gamble their chances and thus, the right to dance had begun. 

A few staggered down from the rows and into the arena, picking a partner and moving to dance before the splendor and brilliance that was the fiery inferno. The music changed with the mood, strings and flutes joining the chorus of the drums, which had slackened in their merciless bouncing. It was now calming, slow and powerful, nothing like the insistent pounding that rivaled the thumping of a primal predator’s heart.

A female centaur, dressed in a long flowing green robe with a matching pendant affixed around her neck, moved to the podium that housed the band. Her flaming red hair fashioned into a tight bun, feathers entangled within a ribbon that kept it tame, she sung to the tune of the melody. The wind toyed with her dress and it flapped like a wing around her equine frame.

With a small sound, Marigold pulled her helmet off her head and affixed it to her side, moving to grab an apple from the table. She turned to Neela and for a second, the Merqueen was struck by the smoldering beauty of those molten eyes flickering in the light of the fire. Though shadow covered much, her eyes seemed unaffected by the veil of darkness.

She absentmindedly polished the fruit on her long black robes beneath the armor, her eyes never moving from Neela’s. “Are you enjoying yourself, Queen Neela?”

The Merqueen smiled softly as the mare took a bite, crunching almost happily on the food, “I will now that you no longer have to fight.”

Swallowing, the mare paused, looking over the other in confusion. “You did not enjoy the rest of the festival?”

Neela blinked and quickly shook her head, “No, I did,” she assured, loving the culture she had the fortune of witnessing in the early hours of the day, “very much so. But I am thankful that this part is over.”

The honesty made the mare smile lightly and she moved towards her throne, “I see. So am I to a degree. It means I can sit.”

Her weight, thanks to the armor, made her sink into the comfort of her lavish chair and she moaned happily, the sound making Neela’s fins flutter. Thankfully, the song that rose and fell within the circling walls seemed to muffle the sound and it was left unanswered.

As the song continued, strong yet beautiful, like the species that was signing this centaur lullaby, merfolk had started to hesitantly advance towards the dancing parties. Like curious snakes, they slithered close, mindful of the hooves that flew and kicked in joy. A near hit made the centaurs pause and change tactics, waving the fish like creatures into their fold. Within minutes, they had begun again, as if they had never stopped. The equine creatures spun and twirled around each other, while merfolk flared their fins and spun on slippery scaled tails.

Some were brave enough to try their luck with the equines, whom were eager to try and find a rhythm. Eventually, there was success, despite a few almost trampling their curious merfolk partners. Some had even allowed a mermen or women onto their backs and spun to the tune. The fish folk screamed with thrill, holding on tight to whatever could give them purchase.

A few had even begun to playfully joust, using bones from the revenged meals to fake parry and thrust, urging their centaur companions into a charge.

The sounds of lighthearted whinnies and fluttering fins hummed in tune with the song.

It made Neela’s heart want to burst, proud of her people for giving the festivity a try. They had been scared at first, standoffish. As cold as the very fish that made up part of their bodies. However, after a few courageous displays of bravery and cunning, alcohol getting slouched around, it seemed even her court was willing to break away from the norm.

Words could not describe her joy in their merriment. “I’m glad to see some of my mermaids are joining in.” she laughed as a centaur spun one female around, almost gasping a second later in shock when she realized that it was Holly.

The normally stiff and professional mermaid was touching and allowing the answering touch of a burly looking centaur female. She was quite heavy set, trait that was distinct in both the human and equine parts, her muscles looking thicker, though shorter, then Marigold’s body. She lumbered strong and careful, mindful of the flickering tail that was vibrating her fins hard in pleasure. Despite looking like quite the brute, the blond sporting a short military cut hair and small narrowed eyes, the centaur smiled brightly down at the normally stiff female. With grace, the mare took the much smaller hand and twirled the mermaid on her fins, Holly’s tail pirouetting around her and gleaming in the fire light.

It took her only a moment to recognize the mare, another member of Marigold’s elite. Although her first name was lost to her, the last name rung sure and strong in her head. 

Topaz.

It pleased her greatly to see that Holly had found someone worth pursuing, not only for her own sanity but for Holly’s as well.

Marigold let out a snort, but Neela could hear the mirth in her voice, even when her eyes continued to watch the spectacle. “So am I, I just hope they are quick enough to avoid the hooves.”

The Merqueen chuckled, glancing sideways at the towering female at her left. “I warned them, many times. If it has not sunk in than they deserve to get stepped on.”

Golden eyes meet her, the fire light flickering hotly against the yellow hue. Her voice was honest and truthful. “I did tell my centaurs too be gentle, so I do not think it will happen too often.”

Neela laughed again, almost hearing the unspoken ‘I hope’ echo through the air despite the noise and commotion. Below, the world that danced and swayed heard nothing of their exchange, enthralled by the joy of their bond and the fires that licked the skies, spreading warmth to all.

The Merqueen watched Topaz twirl Holly again, the woman almost buckling over in giggles, something that was so strange to see upon the face of a woman whom normally would never laugh. And if she did, it was never with amounts of sheer, undiluted merriment. The way she looked up at the centaur spoke volumes, her fins sparkling as they shimmered.

Entranced and feeling her heart flutter at the very idea, she turned to look back at Marigold, whom had finished her apple and tossed it to one of the hounds. They snapped it up as if nothing, the fruit long gone. 

“Are you going to dance?”

The blond shook her head, gesturing down to her armor-clad hooves. “I am not very good at dancing. I was built to fight. I find that I lack the tack to dance as they do.”

Neela however was not going to back down, simply readjusting herself in the chair to lean more of her weight on an arm rest. The one that was closer to Marigold. Her smile, she hoped, was sassy and convincing, having never really tried flirting before and not entirely sure she was getting her point across.

“Isn’t fighting like a dance?”

Marigold paused and nodded but a second later, “It is, but I feel more at ease with a sword in my hand then a hand of another.”

Her heart flickered sadly and she sunk into her chair a little, sad that her attempt had failed. Perhaps she needed to be more direct? “I see.”

“Will you dance?” came a question, the blond casually adjusting one of the straps on her armored leg.

Neela shook her head furiously, a frown dipping her lips. “Not if I don’t want all the mermen all over me.”

Marigold’s voice sounded strangely cutting when she spoke again, a hiss of a breath drawing tightly into her lungs. “Have they hurt you?”

Neela blinked and looked up at the murderous expression and felt a cold chill up her spine. Quickly, she realized how her sentence had sounded and was quick to put the centaur’s mind at ease. However, part of her was flattered at the defensive tone in the blonde’s voice. “No, they wouldn’t dare. But the next few days will be hard for them and the females.”

She sighed heavily in relief, happy to see the squared shoulders of the centaur relax ever so slightly. “I do believe we will not have trouble baring offspring this year.”

The Chieftain mulled over this for awhile, her forelegs shifting as if too cross but it seemed the armor hindered that movement. Neela wished she could strip the golden shell away, wanting nothing more then to see even a flicker of what she had seen in the Chieftain’s hut all those days ago. “Do you want offspring?”

It was a question she had heard many times before, one that Holly had often grilled her over when she turned yet another suitor away. However, instead of annoyance, she felt an embarrassed hum rattle through her, her fins fluttering. “Yes, I do.”

An eyebrow rose elegantly up that forehead, looking so smooth in its movement that it could have made the mermaid laugh. “Then why do you hesitate?” she asked, weaving her hands together to support her chin, elbows on the rests. She was looking at Neela with curious eyes. 

“It almost sounds like you do not want to mate with any of your court.” 

Neela frowned as her heart shuttered hard within her, the statement like driving a knife through her chest. Her expression much have shown this because Marigold’s reaction was instantaneous.

She paused, blinked and abruptly tore her hands apart from each other, sitting up straighter in her chair. Her face had morphed from curious to guilty and ashamed, though it was her eyes that showed the true depth of it.

“My apologies,” was her quick reply, her eyes staring almost angrily at the floor, “that was extremely out of line. I speak before I think. Forgive me.”

Neela smiled softly at the mare, the shy looking out of place on that massive body, “No, its alright.”

Knight shook her head in disapproval, looking at Neela with sincere self loathing. “I sincerely doubt that. I need to watch what I say.”

It was Neela’s turn to pause as she thought over her words carefully. The world was too busy to hear them and with the new change of song, all had seemed to forget about them within this little secluded box.

Only the dogs were privy to their conversation and they could not tell a soul of what they heard. “It’s the truth though.”

“Even if it is,” she stressed, running a hand over her face, “I have no right to push myself into your business.”

Marigold frowned before sighing heavily, pressing her back tight against her chair. “For what its worth,” she began, her eyes staring straight into the towering flames, “I have no interest in courting any of the males of my tribe.”

The statement made Neela’s heart jump and lunged with hope, a pleasant burning feeling exploding down the base of her neck and towards the tip of her tail. Fins flapping and hands playing softly with themselves, she hoped when she opened her mouth her heart would not come flying out. 

“Why?” Joy of joys, it had stayed in its rightful place.

Their eyes meet again, a thunderstorm meeting ocean. “They are family to me. I have protected them for so long that I cannot help but look at them now as brothers and sisters, not as possible mating material. Not to mention as a warrior, I do not think I could properly please my mate.”

This was not the answer Neela had been looking for, her heart steadily plunging back down to sit, uncomfortable and heavy on her stomach which was swollen with fish, vegetables and drink.

The Merqueen winched at the choking crack her voice made. “Why do you say that?”

Marigold hummed over the question for awhile, looking as if she was tasting the right thing to say. She breathed heavily again, her shoulders sagging the slightest bit. “I do not know how to be open, emotionally.” Came an honest reply, so much so that Neela felt her heart split in two, “My father said it was my greatest flaw. I feel I would chase them away if they tried to understand me.”

The blond straightened and narrowed her eyes. “So, I wait for either a tribe member to overthrow me or for death to take me. Which ever comes first.”

Although there was singing and noise, she knew because she could still see the festival unraveling out of the corner of her eyes, it seemed time and slowed around them. Neela could only hear Marigold, her heart thudding loud and slow in her ears. 

All at once, her mouth was dry. “So, you wish to be alone?”

A shrug. “There is no other choice for me.”

Swallowing the hard lump in the back of her throat, Neela decided to try something. “I don’t think that’s true.”

The mare looked at her with shock, eyes tracing her rounded face, as if looking for some detectible trace of joke or lie. Not finding any, she relented some, but her face remained unaltered. It was etched in stone and just about as feeling. “Again, it seems you have far too much faith in me.”

But Neela was nothing if not stubborn. Perhaps it was the glass of wine she had consumed, her first taste of alcohol mind you, or perhaps it was the fact that with all the noise and commotion, she finally had Marigold alone, all attention on her. Whatever it was, her normally shy behaviour seemed to be taking a slight vacation, or at least loosening its grip on the reigns.

“I see how you treat your people,” was her soft replay, her eyes never faltering from Marigold’s, “its no different than treating a lover.”

She flushed deeply and Marigold blinked owlishly at her statement. The red-hot flames seemed to mask Neela’s state which she was grateful for, but it also camouflaged the mare’s as well.

“Perhaps.” Came a slow response, as if tasting the idea, to see if it was true.

She looked away and so did Neela, her nerve shot and gone as quickly as it was there. The gift folded neatly against her breast seemed to burn her. 

Below, the party continued, an ocean of bodies swaying and rolling to the beat. A male singer had joined the female now, their duet haunting and uplifting, however, still sung in a dialect Neela couldn’t begin to understand.

“Would you like anything from the table?”

The sudden answer snapped the Merqueen from her thoughts and she turned to find the blond staring at her. She blushed again and shook her head. “No, I do believe I have eaten my fill.”

“I trust the fish was satisfactory?” came another question, “You must tell me for Winston will chew my ear off if you do not.”

The name was unfamiliar. “Winston?”

“One of the head chefs here,” a causal response, as if the tension from before had never even existed, “and a true master at his craft. Though he often does not get to cook fish.”

The smile she flashed her way made the Merqueen giddy. “Hence the reason he stalked me around the colosseum for an hour. He only left me once I, repeatedly, assured him I would ask your option on the dish.”

Although Neela had never had the opportunity to meet this expert chef, she had no trouble imagining an over zealous centaur nipping at Marigold’s heels. What brought a smile to her face however, was envisioning the look of exasperation on the Chieftain’s face as she was followed from location to another, a talkative shadow closely in tow.

“Then please do tell him that it was the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.” Responded Neela full-heartedly, believing that come next winter, she would have a hard time eating coral and cold wet fish.

Not to mention it would be time without Marigold.

The blond nodded and turned back to her tribe, watching them frolic within the thrones of their happiness. “I will do so.”

Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to try again, her courage building within her breast, Neela quickly pulled the small thin box from her bosom. She fixed her long dark dress before glancing over at Knight, extending it sheepishly out to her. “I have a gift for you.”

Marigold turned and looked at the gift, surprized. “A gift? I require no such thing.”

“I wanted to give you something.” Pleaded Neela, urging the parcel closer and watching with dismay as the centaur leaned away a fraction of an inch. 

“Please take it. Consider it a token of my gratitude.”

Knight considered the gift for a moment, her eyes tracing over the smooth surface of the relatively thin box before sighing and reaching out. Gingerly, she felt its weight in her hands, carefully flipping it this way and that, utmost care in her actions. 

As if she feared it would shatter between her finger tips.

She looked at Neela with a frown. “What is it?”

“You’ll have to open it to find out.”

Frown depending, though more in trepidation than anything else, the Merqueen watched with rapt attention as the ribbon was pulled and discarded on the floor. With not a sound, though she doubted it would have been heard over the swells and falls of sound and vocals inside the area, the box was opened. The blond blinked, staring down at the trinket with something Neela could not understand.

Tentatively, a hand left the side of the box to touch it, stroking its smooth polished surface with awe.

“It is beautiful.” She breathed.

The Merqueen felt her heart throb under the sound, the whisper stocking something within that she desperately wanted to let burn. “I made it from the sea glass and diamonds from our trove.”

Marigold flinched and looked at her, eyes narrowed as she attempted to push the box back into Neela’s hold. “Queen Neela, I cannot accept this, it is your wealth.”

The Merwoman pushed it back, her face stern. “Which I am giving to you. Of my own accord. Please do take it, I will be insulted if you do not.”

It seemed to have the desired affect, Marigold going slack, as much as the stiff woman would allow, in her royal throne. She touched the workmanship again, something flickering in those golden eyes. Neela gulped under its intensity, immediately noticing gratitude and respect flicking amongst the shadows of fire reflected in her magnificent eyes.

“Very well.”

Neela clasped her hands in excitement, ecstatic and hungry, but not for the food that still lay in heaps upon the table. Her courage was building and it made her dorsal stand tall and proud along her tail. 

She decided to try and push further. Softly, with a fluttering of her eyes and hands securely clasping each other in a death grip, she looked up from under her bangs at the blond centaur Chief. “Would you like me to help put it on?”

The barest flicker of a shutter ran through her form, but Neela was unsure if it was merely a trick of the eyes or perhaps the shadows. 

Night was almost upon them, the dark having nearly consumed all in sight. Torches glowed and flickered in time with the massive bonfire which seemed to blaze without exhaustion. When at one time Neela could clearly make out the forms of her subjects from those of the centaur tribe, there was only shapes with muted details. All pulsating to the beat.

The blond nodded and presented the gift back, leaning forward to allow easier access. “That would be well appreciated, thank you.”

The Merqueen was thankful that their thrones were only a foot or two apart, making it relatively easy to lean her full weight to one side and reach the towering mare. Her heart seemed to bunch in her throat, hammering steadily as she took the necklace from its box and placed it aside. The delicate gold chain hung beautifully along her slender fingers, the pattern of its links looking much like snake coils. It was a very simple necklace, at least in comparison to all the others that lay within their trove. 

Regardless, it seemed to her that anything too fancy would simply not appeal to the mare as it would with her. Centaurs were basic in their jewellery, anything they did carry small and unrestrictive, typical of a warrior’s logic and rational.

A beautiful yellow diamond, the size of her thumb, was affixed into a piece of sea glass, weathered white and shaped into a diamond itself. Gold laced up its sides, providing support and protection. Three large pearls, glossy and white, were strung through on either side. 

Simple but beautiful.

Neela’s heart thundered as she leaned close, unclasping the chain and moving to slip it around the mare’s slender neck. Marigold closed her eyes and tipped her head, allowing the briefest of contact and Neela shuttered. She had long since dreamed of tossing her arms around that wiry neck, stroking her thumbs up and down its length before hooking her them under the angular jaw. She felt the softness of the mare’s hair brush her wrists and she tried not to fumble with the clasp, the heat of the other stirring her blood into action. 

It bubbled and fizzed in answer, feeling the breath of its attraction ghosting lightly on her arm.

Her fins bloomed in answer and she was ever thankful that the back of the chair hid this from Marigold’s sight. The embarrassment could have turned her scales red, much like the flush that was consuming her cheeks. Fingers brushed skin along her collar as she fixed the piece together properly, trying not to linger. Though it proved difficult, her body wishing to simply drag her dainty claws over the exposed skin and let the consequences of such burn like the fire in the center of the arena.

With great effort, she pulled away, trying to ignore the dismay that leaked through her body like a stain, her fins plastering, cast fallen, against her sides. 

Marigold backed away and touched the necklace around her throat, feeling its weight and the sensation of it around her collarbone. It struck her that perhaps the only jewellery Marigold possessed was the one she had seen her with before. Judging by her behavior, as she tested and fingered the piece, it was not often she allowed herself to look pretty or even to decorate her person.

If Marigold was ever to be her mate, Neela would take great pleasure in covering her beautiful body from head to hoof in jewels, the finest the world had ever seen. They would drape over her and make her sparkle like the diamond she was.

Flabbergasted by her own thoughts, Neela could not even begin to control the words that were spilling out of her mouth, “There. It looks beautiful.”

Marigold smiled softly, her eyes shyly meeting her own, looking uncomfortable in her steely focus but not to the point where she looked for a way out. It was out of inexperience. Obviously, no one, or at least not many, had ever complimented the mare that way before. The Merqueen’s heart hammered faster, blindly pounding in her ears.

Neela was going to remedy that as well. She would decorate the Chief in compliments too, till she blushed as hotly as she did. 

“I feel it is too glamorous for me.”

Her courage was flying now, drunk and hot under those luminous eyes. She watched them flicker and dazzle and it made her heart want to explode. Neela could not stop her mouth from working. “I think it brings out your eyes.”

The statement caused the centaur to blink and falter, her voice sounding uneasy and hopeful. “Do you think so?”

It sent scorching lashes up Neela’s spine. She wondered what such an expression would look like without the shadows and gold hues to blur and distort the image. Would it look as magical as she dreamed it would be?

“Yes.” Came her choked reply, almost suffocated by her blooming arousal. “But I think your eyes shine brighter than they do.”

Marigold looked away in embarrassment and it spurred Neela harder, her scales throbbing and her fins aching. It scared and thrilled her, having never felt such a demanding pull before. Is this what causes her court to practically throw themselves at one another, twisting and grinding over the sands as they chased even a sliver of passion? 

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” She breathed, wishing those eyes would look back at her.

The blond seemed to shutter, it was visible and Neela was sure it was not a trick of the eye or wishful thinking on her part. She had heard the armor itself rattle under the tremors of the raw muscle and strength beneath. Knight seemed to fumble with herself for a moment, a various amount of expressions cascading across her face, her eyes alight. Neela watched them all with rapt attention, pleased to see that the centaur trusted her enough to see this side of her.

It gratified her to no end.

“I actually have a gift for you too.” Her voice was how it always was, stern and commanding, as if she was delegating mission directives to her elite soldiers. However, the difference now was her eyes did not match the voice. They were soft, gentle. “Its something that would suit you better than simply lingering with me and my tribe.”

From one of the saddle bags affixed to her hips, not nearly as large as the ones on her other suit of armor, she pulled out a box, this one thick and fixed closed with a clasp. It was craved mahogany, polished and without blemish, designs of warriors etched across its body.

Neela took it with question but no hesitance, quickly flipping open the clasp and moving the lid. She gasped as she stared down at the trinket, its silver body and gleaming blue diamonds smoldering and organic in the light of the fire.

Her heart paused and seemed to be unsure of where to go, ecstasy and shock pulling it in all directions. 

Suddenly, her gift did not seem that amazing. “A crown?”

Marigold nodded stiffly, her hands clasping each other, as if to anchor herself. “It was something Talbot had stolen from a human king. Apparently, it once sat up top the head of a great merking whom was unfortunately struck down by an ancestor of the human king.”

She pulled the crown from the box and gently placed it up top her lap, touching the spears and curved horns that made up the crown’s circumference. It felt light despite the many gems embedded within its surface. She could not tear her eyes away from it. 

“He gave it to you?”

“To my father.” She corrected, her body shifting in the throne, “The dragon owned him a great debt, according to him, so he often shared his wealth with my tribe.”

Neela blinked and turned to look at her, “What did your father do?”

“Talbot, the old fool,” though she said it as if she were referring to her pets that snored and sniffed sleepily within the enclosure of the box. Loving and kind. “had been in the thrones of courting another female for his harem and slipped down the side of his own mountain. He had impaled himself into the sharp rocks below and was incapable of moving due to where he had been punctured. My father came to his rescue, hearing his haunting screams from his village.”

“Is that why?”

Another nod. “According to my father, yes. He gave many things to my father, from coin, to jewels and even gilded statues. Anything he deemed my father would like.”

Neela inspected the crown again, taking note of the craved seashells and merfolk designs interwoven with the jewels across its surface. She raised a playful brow in response. “A Merking crown was one of them?”

She shrugged offhandedly, “Yes, which does sound like an odd trinket to give to a tribe of centaurs, but you always accept a dragon gift. To give it back is the highest insult and warrants being burned alive.”

Seemed fair.

If not a little brutal.

Still, regardless of the dragon’s intentions, Neela quickly surmised that it was an old, yet gorgeous crown, something almost too beautiful to truly be at peace up top her head. “I love it. Its good to have something like this back in our people’s hands.”

“I figured you would like it.” The bright grin flashed in the fire light, exposing pristine teeth as well as the fangs that the merqueen had not noticed before. “As a queen, I found it odd that you did not possess a crown fitting your roll.”

Neela frowned and lowered the crown into the box, old sadness creeping up from the depths of her belly. “It was buried with my mother.” She said softly, rubbing a large blue diamond under her thumb, careful of her claws, “I couldn’t bare to take it from her head.”

Although she was not looking right at her, she could see Marigold shift uncomfortably in her chair. The sadness and understanding in her voice further proved this. It was so gentle, Neela had to strain her ears to hear it. “I see. I am sorry for your loss.”

The Merqueen shook her head, looking up at the mare with a small smile, “Don’t be. Age took her, not the hands of man, which unfortunately cannot be said for my father.”

“My mother was taken by humans.” The mare offered, a hand fidgeting with the new necklace around her throat.

“She was?”

“Yes.” Another nod that bounced her spiky mane, dismay almost touchable in her tone. “I had unfortunately spurred her into labour earlier than intended whilst she had gone for a stroll. Unbeknownst to her, a group of humans from a nearby village saw her.”

A raw shivered passed through the mare, full of resentment and hate, the wolves around her whimpered shrilly in answer. A few even looked up, offering large blue and green eyes in some attempted at comfort. The one closest to her licked meekly at her leg, his long canine scrapping lightly at the golden steel.

“They gutted her whilst she breathed and intended to keep me as a pet.”

Neela’s hands flew to her mouth in shock, the crown left to rest on the box in her lap. “That’s horrible! I’m so sorry.”

Marigold shook her head. “My father came to my rescue but by the time he did, only my mother’s skull was recovered, the rest had been eaten and thrown away.”

Fingering the black choker around her own throat, a rounded blue diamond in its center, Neela looked away at the crown again. “My father was trying to save a trapped mermaid in a net that had tangled around her tail.” She began, looking up to meet the mare’s eyes, which watched transfixed, her ears attentive.

She heavily a sigh, feeling the old wounds burn ever so slightly but not splitting open. It hurt, even after all these years, but it was nothing that stopped her from moving forward. “Unfortunately, it was only when he got closer did her realize the mermaid was already dead. They had used special herbs to mask the decay and by the time he had figured it out, he was trapped himself.”

“I am sorry.” The blond breathed, surprising the Merqueen by reaching out and putting a soft hand on her own.

Neela felt her heart hammer under its heat, the thick leather gloves stopping direct contact but the gesture itself was more than enough. Soon, it was no longer old sadness that was rising up from her belly but desire, and it chose to sink low and heavy, its weight uncomfortable yet alluring.

Swallowing she continued, unable to take her eyes away from their union, the gold metal shimmering and eternal against her dark skin. “The last thing my mother saw was him being pulled out of the water and onto the boat. I know he is dead but I always wondered what they did to him.”

The offered hand squeezed hers in reassurance, strong but not crushing, her hands bigger yet just as slender. Neela looked up to meet those beautiful eyes, spell bond.

“Perhaps its best not to know, Queen Neela.” Offered the female before removing her hand and Neela wished she had the confidence to grasp it by the wrist and pull it back. “Ignorance is sometimes the softer companion.”

The songs of happiness and joy filled the empty void that had stretched between them, looking yet not speaking to each other. It spurred something in the Merqueen, something she had wished to voice for a while now and with the mare’s attention solely on her, it had been jerked roughly into the spotlight.

“Neela.” She breathed into the warm air.

The mare blinked, quick and unsure. “Pardon?”

She pressed her hand that had been clinging to her choker to her breast, “You can call me, Neela.”

The woman nodded slowly and pressed a hand to her chest as well, “Then you may call me, Marigold.”

Her heart seemed to want to burn itself alive in the joy it felt, most likely burning hotter than the inferno that still danced and flickered in the distance like a flamed phoenix in flight. 

Overcome by this tender exchange, she clutched the crown before folding it back into the box, careful and gentle. “Thank you, Marigold, I will treasure it.”

“I am glad.”

Hands stroking up the contour of the wooden box, Neela bit her lip, her tail swaying somewhere behind her. “I honestly can’t thank you enough for your kindness, I wish there was someway to properly thank you.”

“Your mermaids merging with us is more than enough.” Reassured the blond, both her hands on the arm rests. “Our tribes will protect each other and hopefully, centuries will pass before ever having to even consider fleeing from human influence.”

Together they turned to watch the still dancing crowd but the songs had stopped and so had the instruments. Only the sound of the fire gave the wind a tune, as the tired yet thrilled bodies continued to sway and bob. A waltz of exhaustion.

Neela hoped so. It seemed like she couldn’t remember a time when her kin where not running for their lives, racing from the ever-lengthening shadow that was the human species. It took so much and left nothing, not even scraps for the rest. They saw nothing of their suffering and only human posterity. They were parasites.

But now, they were in a little stretch of heaven, circled and crowded by mountains far too step and treacherous for any human to ever hope of traversing. All they could ever need; food, water and clean air all theirs for the taking and untainted by the foul stench of human mortality.

Other mythical creatures crowed here as well, offering other methods of resistance against the human scourge. Marigold spoke of creatures that fought alongside them and those of a wilder exitance that were neither friend, nor completely foe. They used the forests and mountain peaks as grounds for their hunt and would attack any, human or otherwise.

Wendigo had been one of the names the blond had offered when pushed.

Still, the land, beautiful and untouched was theirs and would be for years to come.

Neela watched as slowly, the crowd began to lessen and the fire started to die, now only a third of its once dominating height. The darkness had overtaken the world now, pulling out glimmering stars across its belly, pushing away all lingering traces of light and sun. The moon had begun to reach its peak at the very top of the sky, a holy glow radiating off its swollen surface. 

It was so bright and close, Neela could see the divots and scars cleaved across its face.

“It seems to be dying down now.” Said Neela softly, only shocked by the sound of her own voice. It sounded raw, without the hum of noise to mask her anxiety and edge.

She was sad to see it end, more so because there was so much more, she had wanted to explore of the woman whom sat only an arm’s length away from her. The celebration had offered her so much, a chance to wade in the aura that was her presence and discuss things of not dire consequence. The normalcy of it, the mundane, pulled on her heart so greatly that the idea of severing the exchanged hurt like a physical wound. 

Her misery found purchase elsewhere in her thoughts, dragging a frown across her beautiful face. In a week’s time, it would be the time of courting for her people, which meant almost a month of delegations and such in order to prepare and keep control over her court. She would have to watch and mother over her kin as they tossed themselves into the arms of another, being sure that none escalated into a violent altercation. More importantly, she realized with a shiver of dislike, was the men of her kin would be more aggressive in their pursuits.

Her clan would most assuredly expect her to take part, to rear heirs for the royal throne now that peace had been obtained. The thought sickened her and she felt her dinner threaten to evacuated her body. She could almost imagine them rolling up and over her tail, trying to get her to agree, trying to get her to submit and allow the union. They would try to align themselves and bite her neck to hold her down, fins flaring and flickering in the sand, tossing it high to rain down upon their connected bodies.

Her stomach heaved dangerously and her heart wanted to choke itself out at the back of her throat. 

Marigold nodded, eyeing the dying bonfire that now stood only as tall as a centaur. She then looked up, smiling softly at the moon. “The moon has risen completely, so yes, the festival has reached its end.”

Desperately, Neela wanted to give herself something to hope for as she attempted to avoid the stimulated males of her court. Something to get her through the desperate moans and howls of her kin as they mated and danced. Anything to look forward to beyond what her court expected from her. She wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to get away, but she had done it for years so she assumed she would figure something out. Most likely, it would be having Holly cover for her, making up some lie that would keep the crowds away.

But now with how things were, secured and stable...

“Is there another planned?”

“There is one for summer, which of course I will tell you more about later.” Marigold yawned, showing teeth and a long pink tongue, “I find I need rest.”

Neela smiled softly, watching the mare stretch her arms and roll her shoulders, delighting in the few snaps she extracted. “I concur.”

Finishing with a fairly loud pop at her spine, Marigold looked at her with smiling eyes. “I will have a few of my centaurs escort you all back to the crescent shore. I simply need to get a hold of Eva, it seems she might have gone chasing after your water sprite.”

“Yes, it seems they became fast friends. I’ve never heard Lola talk so much.”

Marigold rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking exasperated. “Usually that task falls on Eva.”

Neela laughed despite herself, having heard the infamous fawn blabbering. On said occasion, she had watched with a flicker of delight as the tiny creature affectedly chewed Holly a whole new backside. The whole debacle had escalated over Holly attempting to help the Chieftain with something, but was only getting in the way, something the dutiful fawn would not tolerate. 

Neela had laughed so hard that for a moment, she was actually afraid her scales would peel right off her body. The entire sequence of events was watched by the two leaders and a few elite guards that had been waiting patiently for orders, all at a loss for what to say or do. The way they had glanced nervously back and forth between their leader and the humours display was nothing short of comical. The Chieftain rolled her eyes hard at their antics and slapped her forehead, mumbling a low, string of curses under her breath.

“That is true,” agreed the Merqueen when she was finally able to control her giggling fit, “but its sweet the way she looks up to you and how she takes her job so seriously.”

Marigold looked less then pleased, “Annoying the other half of the day.”

“Perhaps, but I’m still sold on endearing.”

The blond looked at her, the look torn between scandalized and hurt, but the playful glimmer in her eye assured the mermaid that she was forgiven. “Perhaps for you. One moment, I will return with Eva and then hopefully get a few sober centaurs to help me with the fire.”

The mighty mare made the motion to stand and it felt as if someone had cut something tender within Neela’s breast. 

Their loving and tender exchange had finally reached its inevitable conclusion. It was time for them to part ways and except the duties that were theirs alone to bare. Neela was going to be left with her court and all their passion and need. Alone and desperate for something that was beyond anything she should ever be allowed to fantasize over. The Merqueen had her place, her destiny unflinching and easy to follow. But she found herself more than resentful towards her position. This gorgeous mare had done something too her that none had ever succeeded in rousing before. Now, it burned and smoldered within, a fire that refused to die. The idea of being apart from the one that sparked it to flame only made it scorching kisses all the more brutal. 

Neela had never looked forward to the heated exchanges of her people, understanding why yet not really, their universal passion and need lost on her. All because she did not have something to stir the same feelings and desires within herself. 

The instinct to mate was muted, smothered and gagged.

Now, she dreamed of herself twisted, rolling her coils and fins over a different kind of body, one that had fur instead of scales and four legs instead of fins. Whose body weight could crush her without even a hint of effort, all the muscle and honed strength the mare had gathered over the years of being a warrior. Her fearless nature and strength as a leader, pulled at something that was starving and deprived within Neela’s chest. 

She wanted to go to that beach and invoke her own dance, to weave and turn across the coast with another partner. Spreading sand over her back in display, ready and hungry under the gaze of those molten golden eyes, Neela wished to make such things fact rather than fantasy.

But she had done nothing to act upon it, scared of not only rejection but of the consequences here after. Things would never be the same after declaring such affections, making the incision across something not meant to be touched, laying it bare. Only two reactions would greet her; acceptance or isolation.

Neela knew she couldn’t bare with the later. It would end her. For the simple fact that it left her within the obligations of her right as a Queen of merfolk. A title that she no longer wanted or needed. 

The crown in her lap suddenly felt too heavy and part of her wished Marigold had never given it to her. She never wanted the title, to be chained to a destiny that was nothing like she wanted. However, before the centaurs, fear and panic had masked all her burdens away, her court realizing it was much too dangerous for a Queen to bare offspring, that it would attract attention.

Now, the only attention to be had was that of another. There was no excuse and plenty of her inner council had piped up the idea of a young alpha fluttering on new fins through the halls of their underwater palace.

It was expected.

It was needed.

It was her destiny.

Perhaps she would have rolled over and allowed it before all of this. She would have easily submitted if not exposed to the stunning mare before her.

But now things were different. She had seen what could be within her reach, what could be her fate, her choice.

Her mother would not approve, Neela knew this, understood it, but found herself uncaring.

She rationalized that if she did nothing, her fate was sealed. If she asked the blond and was rejected, it would be no different then if she had remained silent. Her council’s reaction was unclear, for no Merqueen, or King for that matter, had ever been pulled from their contracts before. As a creature born from two alphas, she assumed that it was only natural that she would be the odd fish out of the pond, wanting something above what was obtainable.

Heart quickening, practically lurching out of her throat, her hand moved before she could stop it. Grasping the mare’s wrist with most likely more force than necessary, she was pleased to see the mare stop almost instantaneously. Golden eyes regarded her with surprise and curiosity, worry lingering just beneath. 

It both burned and soothed the agony that was twisting inside of the Merqueen. “Wait, Marigold.”

She titled her head, lowering herself back down but Neela’s grip did not slacken, it only tightened. “Yes, Neela?”

Fumbling with herself, heartbeat hot and heavy in her ears, she struggled at what to do. Her brain had not thought this far.

The mermaid knew she should just let go and never mention it, that her duty was strictly to her people. It was not for a Queen to be happy, her mother had once said, that true happiness was through her people. If they were content, so was she, but the elegant words rung hollow inside her. 

Neela was happy for her court was safe, but not in the isolating regulations and expectations of her role. She was a bird in a cage on a human shelf, pretty but forbidden from imagining anything other than the golden bars of her cell.

She did not want that. She did not want to have to return to her beach with what lay ahead of her. The truth she was going to have to accept like a dog that simply accepted the rules its master laid out for it. But she could not do that without knowing first. If she knew, if there was a chance, then she could forgo her duties, she would have reason.

Neela didn’t believe the centaurs would abandon her.

Her court however, she was unsure.

But what if Marigold refused?

Neela shook her head violently, her heart rattling helplessly in the storm of her emotions. She needed to know. “There is one last thing I would like to give you.”

The blond looked confused by the level of hostility that she was no doubt displaying on her face. Her shoulders were squared as an automatic reflect but looked not the least bit privy to attacking the Merqueen. She shook her head softly in response, looking as if trying to defuse the situation. “You have given me enough.”

Her grip slackened but only a fraction, Neela looking at the female with was she hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s a small thing, but a trifle.”

“Very well.” The blond sunk into the embrace of her chair, observing her with a patient face. “What is it?”

Neela blushed hotly and her fins vibrated, the sound catching Marigold’s attention and she looked over the throne to watch them drone on, an eye brow raised. Clearing her throat, Neela acquired Marigold’s interest again, placing a tender and gentle hand on hers, feeling nothing up cold steel on her fingertips. 

“You have to stay in your chair and close your eyes. It’s a surprise.”

“Ugh.”

It was a well-known fact that Marigold hated surprises, especially when she was expected to sit and wait for them. Instinctively golden eyes rolled pointlessly in their sockets, for possibly the seven time this evening, at least to what Neela was aware off. The mare chewed on this for awhile, staring at the Merqueen with an incredulous look.

Still, after a heavy sigh, she relented, pulling her arm from Neela’s grip. They came to rest respectively on their appointed armrests. “Very well.”

The Merqueen glanced around as the blond shut her eyes and waited, trying to be sure no one was watching. 

To her delight, the troch light barely reached their raised platform and the inferno was much too weak to even spill over into their secluded little box. Much of the crowd was either too drunk or exhausted to care much of what was occurring up in the tarped enclosure. They would be waiting for a speech of course but Marigold had to officially announce its ending of their joyful festival. Till she did, they could not leave the colosseum. Still they were too busy with themselves to notice and it stocked the fires in Neela’s belly to move.

Carefully, she slithered off from her throne and onto the stone floor, shocked by the cold touch of it when all she had felt before was the sizzling heat of the bonfire. Using her pectoral fins, she gracefully pulled herself up to face the mare, whom still lingered blind on her appointed seat of power. The dogs watched her with curious eyes but made no move to her. The trusted her because Marigold had said so and had no reason to suspect anything from her that was remotely hostile.

There were far more entertaining prospects to consider.

Three were trying to take food from the table before their time, which the blond had scolded them for repeatedly during the day. When they left, the food that lingered with either be given to them or stored away for the next day.

Heart pounding, Neela climbed in Knight’s lap, feeling her tense and grip the armrests in shock. The blond naturally opened her eyes, staring up at Neela with confusion and a flush on her own face. She looked like she was ready to say something, fear on her face, or something close too it, but Neela did not give her a chance to vocalize it. 

So entranced at the close proximity, the heat from her body and the feel of her strong armor beneath her weight, the Merqueen acted. Instinct taking the reigns and jerking them hard.

Their lips met in something of a sloppy kiss, both their mouths strangely dry.

Neela moaned despite herself, ecstatic and relieved to finally have what she truly wanted. 

Tentatively, she moved her lips against the others, feeling the swell of the mare’s lower lip with a responding delicious tingle at the base of her spine. She felt the other’s breath hitch, hot air ghosting over her face, noses tightly pressed together, and hummed. She allowed her fins to unfurl completely, showing off the hints of blue and gold speckles down the membranes. To any of her kin watching, it would have been an obvious statement of arousal and claim, warning others to stay well away from her and her quarry. The Merqueen leaned closer, the swell of her breasts touching that of Marigold’s, though armour would shield her from the touch all together.

Tail swaying, feeling the other answer meekly in response, her heart throbbed painfully with joy, a responding heat stirring in her loins. It coursed up her sides and back, flushing the skin where it touched. Her hands moved to cup that wonderful face, hoping to finally feel the angular sharp edge of her cheekbone and jaw, only to find her movements suddenly halted.

Gloved hands found their way around her arms and pushed them gently backward back, affectively separating their lips with a small pop.

Neela looked down, aroused and hungry down at those eyes, her chest heaving with delight, only to have it shot down. An arrow piercing the chest of a bird.

Seated as they were, Neela could not see the mare’s expression, much of her shadow cloaking it from view. What she could see, and what was uprooting her excitement like a giant pulling out an oak tree, was her eyes. They looked disappointed and angry but more so ashamed, but for whom in this scenario, Neela was unsure.

They looked at her with pity, though her breathing was ragged and shallow. It confused Neela, left her gapping and breathless, like a fish flopping around stupidly on a dry deck. Those eyes told her they wanted to answer, but something was holding it back and the indecision was marring the Queen of merfolk like a thousand cuts. Her fins drooped and lay slack, too saddened to fold themselves neatly back into position. 

The Queen was not sure she could hear her own heartbeat.

She couldn’t even hear the voices of the crowd beyond, whom were most assuredly still talking and eating in the ghostly light of the moon. All she could hear was Marigold’s hitched breathing. All she could see were her eyes and how they were filled with the things she did not want to see.

Before anything could be said or done, a centaur made his presence known to them as he strolled around the corner, taking sight of their current position. Neela would have frowned at herself for not hearing his approach but her brain was stuttering and reeling. It could not make sense of anything, not even how she felt.

He coughed and strengthened himself, arms clasped behind his back in a similar fashion to Marigold. His glacial blue eyes gave away his identity long before he had uttered a word and Neela wanted to crawl under her throne and die.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked casually, as if seeing a Merqueen in the lap of a Chieftain was a common occurrence. 

It only made Neela feel worse.

The male stallion before them, having entered the box from Marigold’s side, was a spitting image of the female centaur in almost every way. Form mannerisms, to attitude, the only thing that was not the same were they’re eyes. 

At first, when they had met, Neela had been almost assured that they were related by blood, the two of them looking so similar that it seemed impossible to speculate otherwise. However, Marigold had assured her that she and been an only child and this impressively looking stallion had been her very first friend. He had been introduced to the tribe through a merger, his own bonding with that of Marigold’s father, all in the name of building up their defences. 

Having known each other since young yearlings, centuries having passed since the alliance, they often could tell what each other was thinking, much like twins could complete each other’s thoughts and sentences. Neela had felt a suffocating amount of jealousy towards this male, how he immediately grabbed Marigold’s attention without even having to try. It did not help that he was considered an alpha class, rare, and therefore larger and stronger than a normal centaur. Another similarity between the two and from Neela’s point of view, another reason to be wary of him and his motives. 

It only made sense of course, he being her official second in command when she had earned the title of Chieftain within the tribe. 

He was a fine-looking muscular stallion, though due to his alpha class standing, he was taller than Knight by a few inches. His equine half was also a little bit longer and heavier, far more muscular than that of the standing Chieftain, the same could be said for his upper half. His hair was not as wild, the short cut sleeked heavily back with not a hair out of place but still a similar shade of yellow.

He was dressed in a black tunic with a leather vest and jacket that covered both sections of his body. Around his neck was a similar yet smaller diamond necklace to the one Marigold had worn before.

As a top ranking general, he was equipped with his own elite warriors and talent to spare.

“No, you are not Gilford.” Marigold responded tightly, the tone causing a shiver of fear to rattle up Neela’s spine. “Will you help me find Eva? I need her to start winding down the festivities. Also, I need to find some able-bodied centaurs to help escort the merfolk home.”

The Merqueen did not like this, feeling as if something was slipping between her fingertips, like mercury, try as she may to grab it.

The Gilford Cross nodded stiffly and spun around, “Yes, yes of course. I am sure I saw her near the armory. Not to mention I saw a still standing Maxwell and Constance. I will return shortly.”

Neela watched him go, her hands still resting on the golden shoulder pads of the warrior beneath her. 

Her body felt as cold as the armor itself, chilled by this uncertainty that was swelling within the box like a festering carcass. Neela would have noticed the dog’s unease if she had taken the time to look, but her eyes were immediately pulled back to Marigold when the centaur started to push her way. The mermaid gasped and tightened her hold, not wanting to be pulled from the embrace of the other, staring into those eyes that swam with something she didn’t understand.

Couldn’t understand.

“Marigold-”

“-I am flattered,” the mare breathed, her voice soft despite the chaos that was drowning her beautiful yellow eyes. “believe me I am.”

Neela swallowed as she was prompted down and away, her pectoral fins once again touching cold, unforgiving stone. But she found herself uncaring of this disturbance. Her heart was falling, tumbling down with a realization that she had dimly considered but had not at all been prepared for.

Looking down at the Merqueen, she stood from her throne and offered a bow, something that felt as detached at the stone she stood on. “You are far too good for me.”

Neela blinked, shocked by the answer. It was not of rejection, it was something else. “Wait-”

“-I thank you, for the gifts, all of them.” the Chieftain assured, urging her dogs to follow with a sharp whistle. 

They howled in answer and immediately gravitated to her sides, panting and whimpering and drooling.

Marigold, deliberately, was not looking back and it caused something to shatter within the Merqueen, a boulder through a massive glass window. “I will treasure them.”

Later, when she was finally back at the bottom of the ocean, Neela allowed herself to sob and scream, trying hard to bury herself under the masses of seaweed that was her bed. 

Her court could no doubt hear her sobs of despair, Holly having rushed in to see what was the matter, followed closely by a slightly tipsy Lola. The Queen only slapped their gentle hands away, hissing and spitting venom in their direction, and continued to wail.

Her sobs however did not abate the sickening sensation of her heart drowning itself in its own sorrow.

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Here we go! Another chapter done and ready for reading. I want to take a moment to properly thank you all for taking the time to read this. I am really grateful. <3 <3 <3

I am currently working on two other Bellow shipped works and hopefully they will be ready to post by the end of next week. Or maybe even earlier, if all goes well. My posting might be a little slow for the next little while. I am currently juggling two jobs and school so I will do the best that I can. Also, as a side note, because I love the names I have chosen to give the characters from Steven Universe, to avoid confusion, I will continue to use them throughout all of my other stories. Just to make it easier. That and I can't find a better suiting name for Yellow Diamond than Marigold. I swear it was written in the stars :) Of course that it just my option.

Again, thank you so much and I hope you enjoyed the latest installment to the Summit of Amalgams series.


	4. Pain always gives way to hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are growing bolder in their attempts to wipe her and her people off the face of the earth. If it had not been for the necessity of breeding, she and her kind would have stayed beneath the waves where they belonged. But their eggs need air and sandy beaches, their mothers nestled up top and patient. They need help in protecting themselves in their most vulnerable of states. Neela, queen of her mermaids and mermen, invokes the help of another breed for assistance. They meet for the first time and almost as soon as the sun casts its glow, she is love struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> \- Blue Diamond – Queen Neela  
> \- Yellow Diamond – Chief Marigold, Marigold Knight  
> \- White Diamond – Empress Blanka  
> \- Blue Pearl - Lola  
> \- Yellow Pearl – Eva Tempest  
> \- Holly Blue Agate - Holly  
> \- Yellow Agate – Hildegard and Hiltrude Gisil  
> \- Pink Diamond – Queen Primrose
> 
> Courts:  
> \- Blue Diamond’s court – Mermaids and mermen  
> \- Yellow Diamond’s court - Centaurs  
> \- Pink Diamond’s court - Dwarves  
> \- White Diamond’s court – Harpies
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Humans are the enemy  
> \- Mermaids and men can live above water, they come on land to breed and lay their eggs, though courtship is performed underwater and above. They wear sea glass and shells and elegant clothing woven from the hair of beasts.  
> \- In the West, full of mountains and spanning flat lands, live the centaurs. They are known for their fighting prowess and strength. They earn the right to do anything within their tribe and clan through fighting. They are almost always wearing armor and the pelts of their kills.  
> \- To the North, hidden in the mountains are the Harpies, they live secluded from everyone else and believe everyone is inferior to them for they can fly. They covet previous items such as gold and diamonds.  
> \- Blue will fall for Marigold almost instantly. Bellow story I don’t care if you don’t like.  
> \- This will be short however if it is liked I will expand. Also, to that note, Pink Diamond will most likely make an appearance in the second part of this story if I choose to continue it beyond the scope of what this part of the tale describes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, this whole thing is purely for fun.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Chapter 4  
Pain always gives way to hope

The scuttling of feathers and shrieking caws were sharp and piercing to her senses. Vocal ice picks through her tender eardrums that left them wanting to bleed across the sand, if only to relieve the pain. 

The sun was hot, yet not scorching, offering a comforting sensation across her back and torn fins, reassuring, yet absent. A friend that could not be bothered to arrive but was eager to send something close to affection in recompense. The waves lapped gently at her sides, burning the torn membranes and loose scales across her tail, seafoam clinking to her naked body as if too mask the devastation hewn there.

Despite the sun, Neela shivered over the sand that was embedding itself into her flesh, covering her olive skin in a layer of powered white makeup that hardened and cracked with each breath she took. Granules of rock were digging into the open lacerations of her body, wiggling like maggots through the mushy flesh of a corpse in hopes of tasting something good amongst the rot. Flies whirled and darted overhead, swarming angrily over her eyes, trying to force their way into her sockets and she didn’t have the energy or care to toss them aside. 

She only continued to lay and wait. Broken, beaten and empty, hoping the hungry birds circling overhead would just eat her and leave nothing left.

Her blood had mixed with the sand but much of the ocean had washed it away. Though, they could do nothing for the claw marks cleaved across her ribs. She did not need to look to see that her beautiful fins were ravaged, much of their structure gone and a disgusting mess. Her scales were no doubt just as grotesque, some of her fish tail missing patches of the armor, revealing all too soft skin underneath.

Neela felt another wave of sadness crash into her and she gripped fistfuls of sand, nuzzling her face into shards of stone and seashell. Tears swelled and fell as she sobbed louder than she had once believed thinkable. The sound so gut-wrenching and raw, that it di not seem at all possible to be coming from her body. Yet, the dry lump in her throat, which burned with agony of use, told her otherwise.

Even with the cover of night and the dim torchlight as meek company, a court member had seen her actions against Marigold. 

Although no one had stepped forward when the rumor was spread the very next day within the palace walls, accusations and demands were tossed and parried within the aftermath. Half her court was at a loss for what to do. Darting around the forests of coral and seaweed, weaving in and out of holes and sunken vessels, frantic and sick with panic. Others were outraged and flared fins in anger, the membranes almost bleeding under the intensity of the strain. Swarming up from all sides, they tossed questions like arrows, each one cutting a little deeper than the next. 

They were furious and cast fallen, not understanding how she could even attempt to court a creature outside their species. Something land bound of all things, that possessed legs and hooves instead of fins and hooks.

“She is the queen,” they cried to one another, festering within their own fury, “she needs to think about offspring! She needs to think about us!”

“Our survival!”

“Our legacy!”

Fingers, armed with hooked claws pointed accusingly at one another. Vocally, lines were drawn in the sand and muck at the bottom of the ocean. “She cannot conceive with a female, a centaur no less!”

Others chose to defend, “They are part of the court now! They should be treated as such!”

“We are a single unit! A force against humanity and their wicked cunning!”

“She is queen! Her fate is non-negotiable!” screamed another, shouting down and hard at those that tried to ease the confrontation from being physical.

They were swept aside for their audacity to think lightly of the sin that had been committed.

“I knew it was a bad idea to follow those land walkers!”

“They bewitched our Queen!”

Another snarled hotly and took a dangerous swipe at the speaker’s neck, “Don’t be foolish! Centaurs have never been capable of magic!”

“She thinks nothing of us, she’d rather save her own hide!” called one, somewhere amongst the crowding of her people, one hidden from her gaze.

They growled and sneered at the vocalization, pouring more fuel to their fire, scorching them hot and uncomfortable under the weight of the insinuation. 

Holly had tried to calm them, affectively using her status and rank to try and get them to back down. Her attempts were swiftly denied and refused, she overwhelmed by their sheer numbers and ferocity. Claws were turned, all too eagerly pointing out Holly’s own choice in courtship and casting her aside like rubble. Neela could only watch as they pushed her further and further away. Hands towing her into the masses, she sinking into the swarm like a rock in a sand pit.

Fear tumbled straight through the Merqueen, rocking her to the core.

This was the first time any had deliberately overlooked, and even straight up ignored, any of Holly’s commands. It terrified Neela to see her swatted away as if nothing, a few even choosing to bite her in inexplicable rage. 

One of her displaying fins had been torn clean off in the tussle, leaving a splash of red to take to the water, smearing it an ugly brown. Neela wanted to swim to her, protect her, but her court herded her away, claws and teeth taking chances at her neck and sides.

Amongst the bodies of her people, she eventually lost track of Holly and even know, her fate was unknown to her.

It seemed that even with all the centaurs had given them, not many were willing to allow breeding with such creatures as a possible reality. They were willing to accept them as court members but nothing more. Her assumption that they would allow such interactions, even with those of smaller social standing, had been gravely wrong.

It seemed that fear and years of running had turned her people shallow and cold.

Another came to vocalize his ire, a former suitor she recognized by face and not by name. Fury of being rejected clear in his smouldering brown eyes. “Does she not care for our culture? What is expected?”

“We have rules!”

“Did she follow the centaurs only for her own lust?” goaded another, a symphony of jeers sounding after her.

One of the council spoke, his face etched with disgust and outrage from his seated roost behind the crescent shaped table. The sound of his voice chilled the mob to absolute silence, eager to hear his take on this highly disturbing matter. 

Fist slamming hard on his pedestal, he looked down at her from his long nose, glaring at the monster they had called queen as if she was a lowly, disgusting human. “Was this plan only for you benefit, my queen? Was your goal really to be so selfish?”

The chorus of accusations began anew.

“The crown was too much!”

“She has spiraled to lunacy!”

The slander only escalated when Neela tried to explain herself, not even a few hours into accepting the fact that Marigold was not the slightest bit interested in her the way she had wanted. From restless sleep, they had torn her from bed, forcing her struggling body through the winding catacombs and into the great chamber. 

With little care, she was tossed before the council and grilled her for all that she was worth.

Tired and shaken from her sobbing, Neela tried to chill the heated rage that was boiling within her court, attempting to vocalize herself over their clamour of noise and fury. Yet, as she stood now, her voice and title meant nothing to them. Where there once would not have been even a flicker of sound or movement when she so much as sighed, there was only chaos and ruin as Neela screamed and begged.

“It’s a cruse! A sign of sickness!”

“Too much power and ego from a child born of two alphas!”

“She must be cast aside!”

One by one, they took turns at her, baring small fangs and hooked claws, intent on blood. They slapped her with tails, tackling her with as much strength as they could muster. An orchestrated unit of loathing and spittle, they pushed their queen from their home and out into the open. 

At first, Neela was able to bat away the lesser of her court. Longer and stronger claws effortlessly cleaving through their hides and scales. However, it only seemed to be delaying the inevitable.

Their numbers were too great, their collective might far too immeasurable for her to conquer alone. 

Effortlessly, they ran her far from their beautiful palace and up towards the beach. 

In the swarm of screams, teeth and claws, Neela heard Lola trying to reach her, to get close, her loyalty undeterred by this revelation of courting choice. But like Holly, Neela could only watch as she was swept aside, lost in the torrent of furious merfolk bodies as they hounded her.

Breeching onto the shore, they had finally caught up with her, jumping upon her form like wild dogs to a lamp. They bit and tore viciously at her fins and body, caring not for the damage they inflicted. By the end of it, drunk and sedated by the blood on their hands, they left her to die.

For the birds to devour her remains as they sunk back to the darkened depths of the ocean.

They never would kill her, she knew this, but she wished they had. For as she felt the scorching afterburn of their united carnage, Neela knew that they had taken something far worst than her life.

Her wails continued to scare and frighten the local wildlife that had no doubt been driven close out of pure curiosity and of course, by the scent of blood. 

They watched, safe and hidden amongst the rocks and small clumps of seaweed, most likely deciding what to do. Mystified by the aggression but too weary and alarmed to take a closer look. So, they watched and listened, unmoving, until the Merqueen’s sobs were driven hoarse and cracked by her own despair.

Even as her voice left her and the world muddled before her eyes, Neela could not seem to stop her sobbing.

She screamed and screamed, beseeching whatever gods actually existed to take her life and free her from the mortal coil that was simply existing. The mermaid wished for it, prayed for it, but somehow amongst her yearnings for death, she begged Marigold to find her.

To save her as the mare had done before.

Finally, as the sun had risen to its highest peak, a content ball of fire affixed on a canvas of shimmering blue. Its rays burning her wounds and drying her scales, Neela could no longer find the strength to cry. Her throat ached as if she had swallowed a plume of fire and her sides felt ready to collapse under the wails of her torment. 

She had lost count of how many times darkness had taken her, only to awake from the brief lapse to bellow at the heavens again. Exhausted and light headed, she blinked the sand from her eyes, but did nothing to expel the particles from her mouth. 

If she was lucky, they would fly into her lungs and choke her.

The Merqueen’s grief had left much of what happened around her a mystery, knowing she was being watched but not turning to spot what was actually there. Too drained, sore and wary, she could do nothing but stare blatantly ahead. The beach that was given to her looked so alien to her now, even the sand did not feel as soft as it once had been. It felt as if the very land was rejecting her existence and she coughed up another sob in answer.

Neela spotted deer, rabbits and birds lingering amongst the rocky ridge, observing her quietly, making no move to approach. They remained stiff, frozen in time as the world continued to turn. The only thing that gave them away, was the need to blink and the inquisitive flaring nostrils.

The mermaid barely registered the touch of air against her body, even the feel of the waves a muted sensation at best. Dazed and numb, she watched them as they watched her, vacant and waiting.

Then, there was movement, a disturbance.

Something had spooked them, the deer catching wind of something long before any of the other wildlife. They jerked themselves away with only a moment of hesitation, sparing only a second of a consideration at the encroaching object, before bolting over the ridge and way from Neela’s line of sight. Finally seeing the danger, whatever it was, the rest of the wildlife slipped into the shadows and away from the light.

Once again, she was alone.

Down from the archway and across the ramp, a shape made its presence known to her. It was strolling at a steady pace, but the loss of blood made it difficult to interpret what it was. With every blink, the world only continued to distort, edges blurring and fusing with other surrounding objects. Only the first five feet from Neela’s face held any true distinction and detail. 

Panic and fear should have taken her but the Merqueen felt nothing, watching as the white silhouette drew closer and closer until its identity was finally made clear to her.

Her heart, which had been contorting itself within her stomach, hoping to be eaten away, hitched with a flicker of hope. Her sides shook hopelessly under the brief yet warm emotion.

Before her, heavy paws sinking slightly in the sand, was none other than one of Marigold’s Dire wolves, the white one she used exclusively for scouting and strategic ambushing. Her eyes were green, like the vegetation that would eventually consume all the trees and forests with the coming of summer. Her body was still covered in armor, the sections of steel sculpted beautifully over her large face.

Yesfir.

That was this dog’s name.

A smile touched Neela’s lips before she could stop it, the beast big enough to be a pony, standing but a foot away from her. She was sniffing, fat nostrils taking deep analyzing smells from her person and she licked her jowls with almost touchable confusion and concern. Neela reached out, meekly touching the side of that substantial face, feeling for the fur under her jaw that was not covered by cold steel. The dog shivered with pleasure and whined, licking at her wrist and over a cut that still burned.

Neela flinched and jerked away, leaving the dog puzzled.

The world fogged and gyrated, bobbing up and down in a motion that made the Merqueen’s stomach heave and lurch. She wanted to speak, to tell the dog to help her, to fetch Marigold but her throat seemed to close, collapsing from the inside. Neela’s face fell to the sandy floor again, the last thing that she could recall being the haunting melody of Yesfir, the pristine hound bellowing to the sky.

When the mermaid finally awoke, she was no where near any sand or seashell, but up top an enormous bed of furs and skinned pelts. 

Dread spiked through her, barbed and vicious and Neela hastily fumbled over the layers of fabric and skin, attempting to move, to flee. Pain, however, stopped her movements cold and rendered her still and gasping over the furs, her chest heaving with effort. It was only when the sickening squeeze of agony lessened its hold did the Merqueen finally take notice of what was around her. 

Flat on her side, her breathing only just beginning to even out, she glanced around her enclosure.

Immediately, centaur like craftsmanship became the most prevalent thing to her awareness and with it a sense of calm. That knowledge assured her that she was no where near the water and had been in fact rescued by the other half of the alliance.

A white dog clan in gleaming silver with markings of yellow flashed over her subconscious and Neela could not help but smile.

Yesfir had brought help.

Lazily, the Merqueen continued her observation of the chamber.

It was a fairly large room, wide but simple in its décor. It possessed a curved to the walls but only on one side, the other, directly across from her, was straight and flat. Stones made up the floor and walls of her enclosure, oiled lamps dimly lighting the room, from their hanging location in the center of the ceiling. 

Besides the bed, there was a modest dresser and a vanity. The large oval mirror was held upright by two beautifully sculpted centaurs, their heads bowed in respect, an equine foot raised. Tall bookcases stood proud on either side of Neela, flanking the bed. Some of the literature had spilled out and onto the floor in towering piles. The Merqueen could see messy yet detailed, writing in some that had been left open and ready to read. Swords of all different lengths and widths were hung respectfully on mounts along the flat faced wall, some looking made by centaur hands, others by another race all together.

While the bed was low to the ground and heavy cushioned, it stood pressed against the curved wall, the bed itself designed with this bend in mind. Directly before the Merqueen was the only way in or out, a looming door with heavy handles and a metal frame to hold it in place. Behind her, right over her head was a small window, the only window, which showed the time.

The subtle darkening of the sky told her of night’s encroached.

It seemed by the end of her primary survey, the pain was muted enough to allow her some leeway, the frantic whirling in her head finally nothing more than a biter memory. Slowly this time, Neela gingerly propped herself up, giving the room another look over.

From her braced angle, she was finally able to notice the black carpet with golden designs on the floor.

They were shaped like diamonds.

What caught her attention however, was the sculpted centaur mannequins, its simplistic, almost crude looking form holding up a glamorous golden suit of armour. It was sectioned off in the left-hand corner, metals and badges of honor hung neatly on the walls around it. Directly across from it, in the right-hand corner, was a matching mannequin but donned in armor of silver. 

How she had not immediately noticed them, was a mystery to her but one she cared not to delve into. If anything, her frantic actions and swirling thoughts under the influence of her pain could have more than likely been the culprit.

Instead, her heart flung upwards with relief and joy, recognizing instantaneously that she was in the chambers belonging to Marigold herself. 

No other centaur was permitted that colour of armor, only the Chieftain could be endowed with the warm yet powerful colouration. Although the mere sight of it brought both memories of the festival, the rejection and her banishment, Neela could not find it in herself to be furious.

Marigold had saved her again. 

Her heart burned and soared on that thought alone.

It was Neela’s own actions that got her into the position she was in, none of what had happened could be blamed on the mare for she knew nothing of the possible repercussions. Even if she had been willing to be Neela’s mate, the end result would have been the same. The partnership between clans was still too fresh and young, her court unwilling to see more than their own needs. 

They were bond by traditions, her mother had warned her of that, but Neela had been artlessly unaware of just how truthful that statement had been.

Regardless of outcome, the Merqueen knew her court would have turned on her for the betrayal, even if the centaur Chieftain had stayed at her side that night.

Nothing of her fate would have changed and she had been the one to set it in motion.

Still, even with logic pulling her sad state of mind to that conclusion, Neela’s thoughts were still consumed with anger and despair. The happiness that had been stirred by the mere sight of the mare’s gilded shell, dissolved away like acid rain in a heartbeat.

All things considered, Neela now a fallen queen and expelled by her own court, the Merqueen did not feel right within the sacred room. This was a chamber built for those of power and a court to lead, Neela now possessed neither. More so, the Merqueen did not feel up to conversing with the blond herself, which of course was going to occur sooner than later. This enclosure was her home after all. The conflict of her court had happened so quick that it gave her not a moment to consider how she was ever going to discuss anything with the Chieftain again.

With everything that had happened at the festival, what would she even say?

What would she even do?

As she thought over her current state of affairs, Neela’s thoughts grew darker with the vast emptiness that was the uncertainty of her fate. In its downward spiral, other things came up from the darkness to bite her, snarling in their vicious truths.

Where would she even live?

It was clear, if her court was still going to live by the beach, that she was no longer welcome.

Where would she go?

What would she do?

The longer she sat and thought over her position, the more panicked and terrified she became.

Neela’s heart stopped as a certain thought dawned on her, chilling and cutting into her skin like the very cuts and lacerations inflicted and she winched.

Would Marigold even need her anymore?

The thought terrified her more than anything. 

A lone mermaid could no hope to bring down a ship, let alone protect an entire beach. Their contract was nothing now, at least when it came to her relevance and signature.

How she was going to explain herself to the Chieftain? 

Out of terror, her fins struggled to move, instinct spurring them into action. The resulting pain they invoked immediately quelled the Merqueen’s spiralling thoughts as she crumpled down in agony. Withering in pain on the soft bed, panting as scorching waves cascaded over her body, Neela waited for the torture to end.

When the tremors subsided, Neela chanced a look at herself, curious at least to see the damage. 

What she saw made her heart choke mid-beat.

The tail fluke, though frayed and torn, was the only set of fins that still seemed capable of providing leverage for swimming. The rest of her appendages, the ones used for display and courting, were almost completely torn from her body, along with several patches of royal blue scales. Pristine white bandages covered much of the gruesome aftermath, leaving her only to speculate at what she would look like when they came off. Although they could grow scales back, it was a long, slow process and often, the natural pattern of the tail was distorted for life.

Her beautiful tail would look uneven and ugly. It would never be the same.

A dry moan choked up from the Merqueen’s chest as she stared at her hips, only now realizing that her right pectoral fin was gone, safe only for a three-inch stump cocooned in white cloth.

Shocked, Neela reached out to touch it, unbelieving of her eyes and the destruction she was witnessing. There was no way her court would have gone that far, there was simply no way they would have been that far gone with rage to have crippled her like this. But as Neela’s fingers curled around the stub, the weight of the bandaged limp greeting her senses, Neela was driven numb by the realization. In utter revolt and terror, she tore her hand away as if it burned, clutching it to her breast to sooth the truthful ach.

Of all her fins, this one was the most necessary. From swimming, to walking across beaches, to even clinging to the side of a mate, those flippers were what made a mermaid function. They were their lively hood, what promised survival.

Now, she only had one.

She was a Merqueen, an alpha born from two and she only had one fin to her name.

Sorrow took her like a wave and Neela wailed desperately at the ceiling, her body burning from the inside out.

They truly had taken everything away from her.

The Merqueen did not even notice the door slamming open, nor the frantic hoof beats that thundered over to her. 

Neela’s mind simply could not even handle it. 

Her world was decaying around her. All they had pilfered, gone, leaving her utterly bare, raw and lame. No one would want her now. She was no longer the beautiful Merqueen that legends spoke off, that humans whispered of. Neela was nothing more than a marred, lacerated creature who would never be able to swim again.

There was someone speaking to her, the voice awfully familiar and her heart ached under its tone but her misery was stronger. Neela could not be bothered to look up and see. Her sobs seemed to shatter the air, the volume cutting into her eardrums like glass but the pain seemed to soothe her. The mermaid liked the pain as she curled into herself, tail flailing so violently that she hit something solid in her distress. But Neela did not care to look at what she had struck. 

Even the scorching agony of moving the damaged limp did nothing to halt her actions. 

Hands cupping her face, Neela bawled with rejuvenated tears and reenergized agony, her despair ready to suck her back into the void again. The pelts were more than willing to embrace her through the journey, their feather like touch gentle against her skin.

Yet, as she cried into the safety of her hands, something pulled her into an embrace, away from the fur and blankets. Strong arms circled tightly around her torso, pulling her shaking body close and against its chest. 

The Merqueen sobbed openly into the offered shoulder, her arms clutching into the fabric of the tunic in her grip. Her tail moved to curl around whatever was holding her, uncaring if whomever it was killed her or if they told Marigold of her weakness. The fur and girth told her what she already knew, a centaur had come to see her cry and weep and it only made the desolation cut deeper.

Now there was a witness to her emotion turmoil.

Now there was someone to see her tears and shame. 

Neela wanted to die and found nothing but hatred and loathing in the realness of life as she took each breath. She shrieked her barefaced disappointment to the centaur that had come to her side, demanding how it could have allowed her to live.

She wished she had died on that beach.

She wished that Yesfir had not found her.

She wished that the Dire wolf had not gone for help.

She wished she was not in Marigold’s chambers.

She wished she had never tried to court something she could not have.

Most of all, she wished her court had possessed the courage and resolve to simply kill her.

Eventually, her snuffles wore themselves out, though how much time had passed was unknown to her. Exhaustion was finally winning out against the struggle within and although tears still spilled over her cheeks, her throat refused to be vocal anymore. It had reached its limit.

It hurt almost as much as the pain that was screaming down her tail.

Face still buried in the nock of the centaur’s shoulder, her world was dark and muted save for her other senses and with that knowledge, Neela was aware of the information they had to offer. 

Ears, no longer drowned by her incessant sobs, finally managed to pick up the soft humming that had been vibrating steadily against her. Her exposed skin took note of the arms, which had just been a mass holding her upright, now registering them as being slender yet powerful. Neela was suddenly aware of the hand moving up and down her spine. It was soft and gentle, barely pressing anything into the caress as if the centaur feared it would break her.

They were rocking, something that was the last to sink in, subtle and slow, like a pendulum swinging in time. This and the realization that it was a woman caused another wave of regret to wash against Neela, like the tides against a barren beach.

That hand that had been rubbing so tenderly up her back moved to brush some of her silver hair from her face, foreign lips ghosting passed the closed ear.

“I am so sorry, Neela.”

The Merqueen choked out another sob and trembled, realizing that the last person she wanted to see was the one holding her so tightly, protectively. Neela buried her face deeper, as if trying to curl into the body of her savior and never come out. Her heart could not decide how to feel, lifeless and useless in the bottom of her chest cavity. It was torn between utter dejection and joy, finally in the arms of the creature it wanted more than anything else.

Marigold breathed again, shaky and quiet, repeating. “I am so sorry.”

With each stroke, Marigold continued her apology, whispering them over and over in her ears till her sobs were nothing more than a memory and she had tumbled back to sleep.

When Neela awoke again, she was still within the room of the Chieftain but this time sunlight was streaming through the windowpane. Neela could only assume a day had passed. It dawned her almost immediately however that she was not alone, a noticeable weight pressed against the side of her tail. 

Her heart sunk ever so slightly.

There was a body with her. 

As Neela fumbled through the sleep that clung to her eyes, visions of her exile flashing over her eyes, her hands touched something that was not equine fur. Nor was it remotely close to the furs she was currently lying over.

Blinking and rubbing her eyes, her scales ruffling for some sort of attack, the Merqueen was greeted by a pair of green orbs, which regarded her with captivated interest. It sniffed her face with curiosity, licking her cheek in what she could only assume was an attempt at comfort.

The white fur seemed to glow under the sunlight and Neela softly stroked the muzzle that sniffed at her eyes and mouth. Her heart swelled at the Dire wolf’s presence. “Yesifr.”

Her voice sounded strange to her, cracked and hollow, a shadow of what it once was. Had she not felt her mouth and tongue move; she would never have known the voice expressed had come from her. The dog blinked and wagged its long, curved tail, offering another wide lick across her face. The Dire wolf was devoid of armor this time, exposing a grisly scar across the left side of her face. 

The three clawed attack having only just narrowly missed an eye.

It reminded Neela almost immediately of her own scars, but she could not find the strength to look over the damage done again. She felt if she wept again, she would tumble into darkness once more. Or more likely dehydrate herself.

The heat of the canine felt strong and reassuring against her body, the beast half curled onto it, as if doing her best to provide warmth and protection. Most likely an instinct all wolves had for their weak and sick, for she had seen a similar thing transpire between a regular wolf and her pups.

Still, the dog did not linger. 

As if comforted by her awareness and touch, the beast stood and hopped down from the bed, giving only a small stretch before trotting up to the door and nudging it open. Yesfir spared the Merqueen only a second’s glance before slipping through the gap and disappearing completely from view.

A voice echoed suddenly from beyond the door, greeting the canine upon its return. There were sounds of praise, jaws crunching around something meaty and thick as well as moving hoofbeats. Neela stared, watching shadows move along the narrow space between door and floor, the shapes going this way and that.

Then the door opened completely, rolling heavily on its hinges, as Marigold stepped inside, a plate full of food in one hand and a folded table in the other. The centaur only paused in her approach to shut the door, a gentle knock ensuring that it had shut all the way.

The Chieftain was dressed in a grey vest and a black tunic with a matching dark blanket draped down her equine half. Neela felt her heart pulse despite herself, her gift still hanging softly against Marigold’s breast and collarbone.

The centaur advanced carefully, unfolding the small round table and gently placing the tray of food on top. It steamed hotly before her. The Merqueen felt her stomach growl and roll under the beautiful smell of eggs and meat, having not realized until now how hungry she was.

Knight turned to her, her expression sympathetic and soft, “I am going to sit you up so you can eat. Is that acceptable?”

Neela could only nod, a shiver of pleasure rattling trough her, her heart joining in the sensation by fluttering at her throat.

Ever so gently, Marigold used her strength to prop the Merqueen up, one hand grasping that of the mermaid whilst the other used her hips for leverage. It became immediately apparent that without the pectoral fin, her mermaid companion would be unable to stay up without outside assistants. The blond remedied that quickly however, using one of the many pillows strewn across her bed to held provide stability. It was only once Knight was absolutely sure the Merqueen would not topple over did the centaur release her steadying hold and move away.

Neela wished Marigold would come back and hug her tightly again, feeling tears starting to swell within the corners of her eyes at the absence of heat.

The mare chose to sit herself down on the floor, the position leaving them exactly at eye level with one another. Intently, the blond looked at the food and then back to Neela, her lips set into a thin line.

“You need to eat.”

Neela wanted too, her stomach was begging her to consume something, anything, even coral would have been delicious at this point. However, the Merqueen was held back by a torrent of questions, her mind seemingly entrenched in a heavy fog that was both a result of too much sleep and exhaustion.

Willing her tongue to wag, she spoke, grateful that she could hear a trace of her old voice in the sounds that left her. “How long have I been here?”

“Five days.”

Neela’s heart sunk. “That long?”

“Yes.” Was her absolute answer, but the pause that followed afterwards hung like a guillotine over her neck.

The mare shifted her weight uneasily, her jaw working. She was tasting what she was going to say, running it over several time in her head. Neela waited for the question to come, still trying to process her extended absence. “Can you tell me what happened?”

The Merqueen reeled away as if she had been slapped. Had it not been for the constricting embrace of the bandages, she would have wrapped her tail around herself. They felt new and reeked of medicine, obviously having been changed without her knowledge. The best the mermaid could manage was a twitch and a modest wag.

“I’d rather not.”

Marigold clicked her tongue. “I can only help you, if you tell me what happened.”

“I dug my own grave,” Neela whispered dejectedly, staring down at her hands that were now fiddling with the corner of the pillow supporting her weight. “there is nothing to free me from the pit.”

The blond shook her head, her tone turning hostile. “I do not understand, was it not a rowdy male?”

Neela blinked, looking up at the female with confusion. She was immediately off set by the anger that was flickering in those yellow eyes. “I’m sorry?”

Although her voice tried to come of as factual, even, it was clear, as least to the former queen, that the centaur was beyond furious. The hidden venom in her tone felt as if it could bring down an elephant with one lash. “You seemed to imply by our conversations together that the males get aggressive during the rutting season.”

“No…” she breathed, trying to understand if she had in fact drawn Marigold to this conclusion by her own dislike of her destiny. She could not recall but she was sure she had not helped the matter. 

It was no lie by any stretch of the means, the males did get violent with their mates and it was not uncommon for some fin damaged to occur whilst in the heat of their passion. Usually, she had her council would watch safely from afar and if things did escalate, they could swiftly intervene. 

It had always been her least favourite aspect of being the matriarch to her court, simply because she had to observe her people rut and grind against one another for an entire day. It naturally made her feel uncomfortable, especially want a few would turn to her general direction and moan unabashedly, as if they wanted to envision her whilst they tumbled over edge.

A moment of disgust passed through her, sharp and stinging but she forced it down.

“Never this violent…” Neela admitted softly, her eyes drifting back down to her hands again. “and this was not the act of one male.”

“There were more? I do not understand.”

The mermaid wanted to curl into herself, to bury her body into the deepest darkest hole she could find and never come out. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

She could see the blond crossing her arms over her chest, no doubt staring at her with a look that was caught between concerned and irritated. “If you do, we can punish those who dared to lay such marks against your person. You are the queen of merfolk!” she exclaimed, her voice tight, “This is a disgusting act of violence on their alpha. Consequences for this outrage should be carried out.”

It sounded so easy and perhaps considering her position, it was. But Marigold knew not of what happened. She was under the impression that there was still a court to rule over and deliver swift punishment too.

“I’m not the queen anymore.” She responded humbly, tears prickling, yet not falling, from her eyes.

Marigold reeled back as if she had been struck, “I beg your pardon?”

Neela sniffled loudly, trying to pull back in the tears that were swelling up with her emotions, hoping not to cry anymore. The grotesques sound would have made her flinch in revolt if she had been in a state of mind to care. 

“I was kicked out for my sins.”

Marigold blinked, “What sins? You have done nothing wrong.”

“I…” Neela stuttered, her heart falling down, hitting tender wounds on its way. She could see the faces of her people, contorted with the fury of her selfish actions. “I tried to…to…”

It seemed whatever resolve Marigold had had for getting answers was swiftly uprooted. Reaching out, a tender hand placed itself on the Merqueen’s shoulder, encouraging her to look up, for their eyes to meet. When they did, all anger was gone and in its place was something crossed between guilt and hurt, something that made her already wounded heart lurch and squeeze in on itself.

“Please do not cry.” The centaur begged, “It is alright, I should not have pushed.”

She moved her hand away and hastily urged her body to stand, “Here, I will leave you alone to eat in peace. Forgive me.”

“Wait!” Cried Neela, extending a hand out to her, trying to reach for her wrist but almost succeeding in toppling herself over. 

Knight, of course, rushed to her side to be sure she did not fall out of the bed, gradually resetting the mermaid in her former position and propping a few extra pillows to be sure it did not happen again. It was only when she was positive that Neela would stay firmly rooted did she back away but made no move to leave. The Merqueen took a second to enjoy the reassuring press of the pillows against her body, appreciating the added support to her tail.

“Please.” She pleaded, not wanting the woman to leave her, she couldn’t stand the idea of being allowed the option to dwell a second longer in her own thoughts. “Don’t leave me alone.”

The blond, without a second’s hesitation, carefully set herself back down and pushed the side table closer, urging her to eat. “I have nothing pressing to do. I can stay as long as you would like.”

She paused, watching as Neela took a mouth full of eggs with a fork that had been left for her, “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Neela shook her head, hair flaying out around her. She carefully swallowed her food before responding, deciding she could only really engage visually with her food. “N-no.”

“Very well.”

Much of the meal was eaten in silence. Neela staring scorch marks into the pilled platter whilst Marigold watched her consume every mouthful with unblinking determination. It was as if part of her feared the Merqueen would spit out the food, or hide it somewhere under the bed. 

The mermaid did not need to look up to see it, she could feel those narrowed golden eyes scrutinizing every fork full of eggs, bacon and sausage that she took into her mouth. When she took to the fruit, a relieved sigh passed through the centaur, as if further pleased that her diet had not been affected. Periodically, she would take a wig of her water, washing down any remains before picking at the steaming offering again.

She ate until only crumbs too small to hold any real value were left along the plate’s surface. Her stomach rested happily on itself, content to not only have food but something truly delicious that had nothing to do with coral. Marigold immediately took away the tray and got up to leave, most likely to clean the dishes and put them in their proper place.

Neela was stunned by the action, her eyes watching the figure she adored moving steadily away from her and it caused her heart to tumble back into the pit of its own despair. Her mind scolded itself for being so childish, her feelings folding in on themselves with realization.

What did it matter?

There was nothing left for her now.

Just as Marigold’s hand reached the lever, Neela spurred her mouth to speak. “I tried to court a centaur.”

The sudden noised stopped the massive centaur in her tracks, the blond looking over her shoulder with interest. That eyebrow was hiked high in intrigue. 

When she turned around completely to face her, Neela continued, feeling the blush that was gradually starting to devour her cheeks like some fever. “I tried to court a creature outside our species,” she repeated, her hands tangling with themselves in some fruitless battle to keep herself in check. 

“But worst of all…” she paused, feeling her stomach lurch in upset, her heart flapping in her chest. Half in hope, the other in fear. She had already been rejected once and to be refused again was going to make the little organ burst.

“I tried to court a female. An alpha female. But in doing so, I went against my own calling as an alpha.” Tears were gathering, threatening to fall. She looked down at her hands, marveling at how her claws had still managed to stay in tact despite the scuffle. 

“I broke the rules of my destiny and now, I can never go back.”

There was a pregnant pause, Marigold clearly analyzing what had been said. What only passed as a few seconds felt like several minutes. Her voice sounded shocked and strangely hopeful. “You were trying to court me?”

The Merqueen looked up, noticing that Marigold had moved closer, tray still held in her hands. She was looking at her with wonder, her eyes hopeful for something.

Neela swallowed, feeling as if there was still a scrap of bacon hooked onto the side of her throat. 

She was torn between welcoming the optimism and despising it.

“For a long time.” She admitted from under the shadow of her bangs, the line of defence giving her some level of protection. Encouraging her to keep talking. 

However, like a veil, they hid much of the mare’s expressions.

“I finally got the nerve to try and communicate that too you, but I misinterpreted my chance and not only did I make a fool of myself but one of my court members saw the whole thing.” She choked on a sob, feeling the first few tears slither down her cheeks, gathering at her chin.

“They weren’t supposed to see but someone did. They lashed out and exiled me. They tore my fins…” water blurring her vision, Neela looked away from that intense yellow gaze to glance over at her tail. 

Even though she hardly felt any discomfort, whatever herb the centaurs had used for medicine clearly doing their job, her tail burned all the same. It was as if it was mirroring her self resentment, screaming at her to truly acknowledge what she had let herself do.

She choked again and brought hands to her face, shoulders shaking under the intensity of her trembling. “I don’t think I will be able to…s-swim anymore…”

They had taken everything from her. Her destiny, her crown, her fins, all because she could not just do what she was supposed to. 

It was not even that hard, merely rolling over and submitting to a feisty male for one sexual exchange to produce an heir. She would not have even to stay with him. As a ruler of her court, the Merqueen could have simply tossed him out with little more then a flick of her wrists. No one would have even bated an eye in question. They would have simply been over the moon at their beloved queen finally producing an heir to keep their court from dissolving into utter chaos.

That was all it would have taken.

But no, she had to go with what her heart wanted, the allure of a stranger and an exotic species at that.

She was no better then the filthy humans that wandered onto their beaches in hopes of taking a female mermaid home for a pet. A slave. Neela went against the grain and it bit back, she deserved what she rot.

This was her punishment. 

Furious and heartbroken, her body almost convulsing under her own self hatred, Neela whipped her head back around to face the blond and bared her teeth. Her anger only spiked when the irate display that would have sent her court running did nothing more than make the centaur blink with surprise. 

“Look at me!” she bellowed, slapping her tail for good measure, satisfied to hear the bed groan in protest. “Look how hideous I am! I can’t even stand up on my own.”

But as soon as the anger was there, it evaporated, melting away like the very snow that was ebbing away across her shore. It left her empty and shaking, her sorrow crashing back on her person like the very waves of a hurricane. They drowned her with her own sorrow, a noose of her own design tightening around her throat.

Her tears feel once again, leaving fat wet trails down her olive cheeks, cascading like a waterfall off her rounded chin. She could not hope to stop them, her world a blur of colour, smearing hues of gold, blue and brown. But the gold was growing closer, devouring more of her line of sight with each passing moment.

Neela heard Marigold setting the tray down before she was scooped into an embrace again, those strong arms pulling her tight and close against her person. The mermaid thrashed at first, wanting to be left alone in her woes, to die on her own sobs and be left to rot somewhere where no one could find her.

However, the gentle yet firm clasp of the centaur would not be pushed away. Instead Marigold curled and pressed even closer, Neela aware of an equine foreleg folding onto the bed next to her pectoral fin. The one that remained anyway. 

Her struggles died swiftly under the warmth of the other, the reassurance in her hold and embrace, more than enough to sedate her. The Chieftain’s steady breathing and whispered nothing in her ears sending a scorching heat through Neela’s body. Helpless, the Merqueen relaxed completely into the hold, letting her hands fall on the other’s hips. A hand moved her bangs from her face and as Neela looked up to greet the face of the other, lips cautiously descended upon hers.

They were tentative, a light press that feared breaking her, like much of Marigold’s movements towards the Merqueen in general. They were soft and pleading, asking but never demanding. Neela sobbed against them, heat coiling tightly in her chest as her heart hammed viciously within. She kissed meekly back, part of her wondering if this was real or a delusion that her mind had made to ease the pain. The tiny moan the blond uttered in answer assured her that this was now illusion. Turning her head to the side in permission, Marigold allowed the queen to slid her lips closer and affectively lock them.

Neela hummed as the tears rolled slower now down her face. Shocked yet content by this bold move on the centaur’s part. Questions flung themselves into the open when the blond pulled away, brushing a stray lock from her soaking eyes.

Before she could vocalize her confusion, to ask, Marigold beat her too it. The proud mare looked shy under her gaze, despite the fact that with the change in positions, she was taller again. 

For a second, Neela registered this bashful expression and the faint dusting of a blush as cute.

“I thought that it was merely the need to mate that caused you to act that way.” The Chieftain began softly, her other arm that was not casually brushing silver hair was looped around the mermaid’s back, holding her steady. 

Swiping away the stubborn tears with her thumb, the blond continued, her voice soft and regretful. “I did not want you to make a mistake you would later regret.”

The statement left Neela dumfounded, though her heart was burning under the rekindled desire and affection being bathed generously over her person. She wondered if Marigold was the least bit privy to its obnoxious hammering, if she could hear, even from her distance, the sounds of its devotion towards her.

Blushing, her breathing uneven by both her crying and the kiss, Neela looked hopefully up at the female she wanted more than anything. “So, you…like me?”

Marigold gave a small laugh. It was short, sweet and held no traces of ill-will within the tone. It sounded genuine and free. “I adore you.” She praised, her own fever blush darkening some.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever had the fortunate of meeting.” She continued, giving the Merqueen a gentle squeeze around the middle.

“I was enamoured by you the second we meet, but I figured such a creature like you could never want a battle-scarred thing like me by their side.” A sad note had taken root, and that brilliant smile had dipped downward, a frown marring that stunning face. 

Her hand drew restless circles along Neela’s spine whilst the other took hold of her hand. 

“So, I stayed away.” Her brows furred further, “I figured I was not nearly enticing enough to warrant even a flicker of your affection.”

Neela could not believe what she was hearing, her voice lost to the confession.

She imagined it had tossed itself out the window in utter surprise, vaulting over several obstacles and far into a field somewhere. 

For the life of her, the Merqueen could not comprehend how such a magnificent creature could ever believe, even for one heart stopping moment, that she was not the least bit beautiful. Everything about her, from how she held herself, to how she pampered her people only further fostered Neela’s attraction for her. The respect she had earned, her fearless attitude and her inability to never back down from a challenge all reeled Neela in like a fish on a hook.

But that was only in consideration of her personality.

The beauty of her face, pointed and elegant only added more fuel to Neela’s sexual fire. She was everything Neela was not, in every way she could think off and the Merqueen was driven like a deer in rut to want to have this creature for herself.

But, upon reflection of that handsome face and exquisite yellow eyes, the mermaid’s thoughts turned to her own appearance and her world wanted to crumble again.

“But look at my tail,” she protested, gesturing to it with a meek twitch of her hand, “my flippers.” She hung her head, back curling in utter defeat. “I am no longer beautiful.”

A strong hand encouraged her too look back up, blue meeting gold. Marigold smiled at her softly. “You are beautiful and no scars are going to change that.”

The centaur paused after removing another fat tear from her eyes and stood. Neela protested against the loss, needy hands quick to grab hold of her tunic, but the reassuring glint in the mare’s eyes promised she was going no where. Relieved, the Merqueen eased her grip of the shirt, watching as the mare stood and stepped away. Standing only three feet away, the centaur’s hand moved towards her blanket, swiftly unbuckling the many belts that held it in place. Grabbing a fistful of the fabric draped across her equine half, she turned to look at the mermaid sitting contently on her bed.

Heaving a sigh, Marigold took a second to collect herself, “I want to show you something.”

Slowly, the Chieftain hiked up the thick cover and revealed a side of her girth, taking only a moment to pull off the half that still lingered tightly on her flank. 

Neela blushed at the exposure but the rising heat within her at the display quickly died as she took in what the mare was really showing her. Lacerations, some old, other relatively new, were cleaved across her sides. They left long marks were no black fur could grow, some looking disturbingly like something had tried to pierce through the skin and muscle. Hopefully attempting to pull something out from inside. 

A massive hole had been dug into the space between her girth and her flank and it was by far the largest. It ebbed over much of the skin there, looking like a thick spiral that trailed up and away. It had been close to hitting the tender areas of her loins, where no doubt if it had sung any deeper, the Chieftain would have bled out. 

Across her flanks were a myriad of thin criss-crossing scars that looked as if one of her wolves had decided not to take orders anymore and attack. There were bite marks along with them, looking too short to be anything close to a canine, which immediately brought to mind something like a big cat.

A lion perhaps.

Carefully, Marigold pulled the blanket back down, taking a moment to be sure everything that had been shown was properly covered once again. Neela felt her heart wildly beating out of control with shock, sympathy and pain for her fellow alpha’s fate.

She had thought her injuries were something to cry over. In comparison, not one of her wounds would have killed her, but many of those Marigold had obtained very well could have been her last. More so, the centaur had only showed her half of her body. The mermaid could only speculate at the condition of the other side.

Looking almost noticeably sheepish, the female folded her hands together. “I am a warrior and that often means I do not get the chance to walk away unscathed. I have seen many fights and have been to death’s door more times than I would like to admit.”

Neela wished she would remove the cover again, if only so she could touch them. “At least they were noble injuries.”

The blond shook her head, a bitter smile on her face. “Far from it. Most of these I got whilst I was young and reckless, stupid and honor hungry.”

Giving her tail a swish she moved closer, now only but an arm’s length away. She levelled a stern yet compassionate glance down at the mermaid. “I wished to be like my father and earn the respect of my people. My attempts nearly cost my comrades and I our lives.”

“I’m so sorry.” Whispered Neela, feeling as though she had plodded on a sore spot.

“It was my own fault.” The Chieftain assured, the irritation in her past actions evident by the distain in in her voice. “There is no one else to blame but myself. I have learned from my mistakes. But now I find myself regretting ever letting you go back to the ocean that night.”

Marigold paused, a frown back in place, “I could have spared you that if I had just acted upon my desires. I could have taken you here.”

Neela’s heart wavered, affection swelling almost painfully in her breast.

“There was no way you could have known,” she countered, her breathing tight, “what happened to me is rare. But I suppose I am just difficult.”

“No,” the blond shook her head, moving to lean back onto the side of the bed, the rest of her casually folding itself onto the floor. Her voice grew soft again and the way she was looking at Neela made her want to squirmed with joy. 

She reached up to stroke more of those salty tears away. “you are beautiful and enchanting. A creature of radiance and elegance.”

Neela breathed as the blush she had been nursing bloomed strongly over her face again. She looked away, timid as Marigold had been, only managing to glance at the other from the side. “So are you.”

The Chieftain pointed a finger to herself with genuine confusion, no doubt motioning towards the tiny scars on the corners of her lips, across her cheek and over her nose. “This ugly mug? I think you need your eyes checked, my darling.”

Neela could have purred under the loving moniker.

“You are beautiful to me.” She breathed again, not missing the way Marigold flushed and looked away as well. It gave her strength to turn around completely and face her.

With everything out in the open, her feelings returned, the former Merqueen felt as if there was nothing she could not do. “I’ve wanted to see you from the moment we met.”

The blush intensified and Neela decided that she very much adored the colour and was going to be sure to invoke such a response regularly. “You many not like what covers the upper half of me.”

Neela would have rolled her eyes if she was not so shaken by what was transpiring, that her miserable existence, that her choices had made, had not been for nothing. 

Tenderly, she reached out to take one of those slender hands into her own and pulled it close, cupping it with both her palms. She stroked the knuckles, her eyes never leaving that beautiful face. “If you aren’t repulsed by my…deformities, I doubt there is anything that could chase me away from you.”

The Chieftain stuttered, her face completely beet red and it made Neela want to kiss it but she refrained, unsure if she could keep herself together if she suddenly lunched at the other. With how her emotions were now, Neela was torn between crying her eyes out again or deliberately forcing herself on the centaur.

After a minute to collect herself, the mare spoke, “You require both set fins to swim effectively, yes?”

At her tentative nod, she continued, “That might be an easy thing to remedy.”

At her resulting confusion her statement invoked, the blond continued her train of thought, “I have built contraptions that power our machines through the use of water and wind. Fans, if you will, that use the momentum of the current and force of the wind to give our machines energy. I am sure I could build you a new fin using similar designs.”

Neela blinked, her heart quivering with hope. “You…you could do that?”

The Chieftain looked almost offended, “Most assuredly, yes. The prototype would not look…beautiful, but it, at the very least, could simulate the structure and use of a fin.”

Her body felt strangely numb. “Could you really do that?”

“Yes, naturally.” Came another assured reply, “It will however, take some time. That and we would need to wait till your wounds have completely healed before we try any gadget on your person.”

Neela was at a loss, her mind and body overwhelmed by the very presence of this wonderful creature she had in front of her. She could barely breathe properly, feeling almost like she was suffocating. “I don’t know how to thank you…”

Marigold looked hurt by the showing of tears again and hastily went to work about removing them. “Please do not cry. It hurts me when you too. I fear I will be haunted by your gut-wrenching sobs forever.”

Neela hiccupped and looked away, taking that gentle hand that had moved to cup her face and leaning into it. “I’m sorry.”

“Never you mind.” The blond assured, “And as for payment of my services, you have already joined the centaur populace, you are a member of our tribe. Court or no court. We need nothing more than that.”

Still the Mermaid was unconvinced and briefly, her mind was tossed back to the vacant shimmering coastline she had once called home. “What about defending the beach?”

The mare shrugged, “We will find another way, always have.”

Neela smiled, the first genuine one in days. “Thank you.”

The blond fidgeted slightly, her jaw working through something she wished to voice before taking the initiative. Neela was beginning to love that little quirk. “But I do have something I wish to add to that.”

“What is it?” she breathed, taking a chance to plant a small feather light kiss on the thumb next to her lips.

She was enchanted by the shiver it evoked.

“Considering my naivety and down right thick headed stupidity,” Marigold began, her tone harsh, clearly still upset with herself, “I would like to ask for another chance at courtship. As long as the door has not been closed. If it has I-”

The Merqueen pulled the woman close and quickly silenced her with a kiss, feverishly sliding her lips to lock effectively with the other’s. Neela only chanced to break away for a second, peppering small ones of love over cheeks and nose before capturing stunned lips once again. She was beyond delighted when they began to respond, hands finding purchase on her hips. 

The mermaid let her hands move, stroking up the sides of the mare’s human ribcage before affectively locking around that gorgeous neck. A shiver trembled through the Chieftain and it sparked a flame somewhere within Neela. On instinct, though difficult with one flipper, she managed to drape itself over Marigold’s hip, allowing their to affectively meet at least. The little hook found purchase in the blanket, getting caught in the fabric which made the movement easier. Again, another delicious shudder raked over the centaur’s body and her hands, for the briefest of second, clutched tighter at Neela’s sides. 

The former queen decided she loved the feel and weight of them and pressed closer, their chests into a hair from touching, taking a gentle nibble of that tempting lower lip. She smiled as the mouth gasped against hers before moving away, her hands slinking upwards to cup that gorgeous face. Yellow eyes blinked lazily up at her, looking much as if stuck in a daze.

The former queen stared hotly into those mystifying eyes, excited by the mimicked desire that lingered there. “I would be more than happy too.”

Marigold blinked, gradually coming back to herself, before smiling down at her. Behind her, a gilded tail flickered with contentment. “Good.”

Her eyes moved to the bandages and the centaur made the motions of wanting to stand. “I will come back with one of our medical staff to look you over. I trust it is time to change them.”

Before the centaur could leave however, Neela took hold of her wrist, hardly putting any really strength into the grasp and she smiled at the fact that it was not necessary. The blond stuttered to an absolute halt, staring down at her with touchable curiosity.

“What about my court?” she asked, both curious and terrified for the answer. “The beach? Did you find anyone there?”

Although she was sure most, if not all had left her to rot, there was still the question of Holly and Lola, whom would most likely had continued to fight for her, long after she had been properly beached and exiled. Their fate was a mystery and she wished to know if they had been found where she had once lain.

Marigold seemed to fiddle with this answer, not in any attempt to lie, for the blond proclaimed she was a terrible at it, but more how she would word it. It caused a flicker of fear to burn inside Neela’s stomach.

The mermaid waited till the blond seemed satisfied with her response, her eyes full of worry, empathy and bitter resentment. “I made a deal with you, not them and they have harmed something very precious to me. I would like to severe all ties but at the end of the day, they were, are, your court. That decision should be left up to you.”

Neela nodded, her hair bouncing, “I know and thank you. But I was curious if Holly or Lola had been found on the beach.”

“I am afraid not.” She paused, moving to take that hand into hers, “But I will send my wolves to investigate, have them keep searching the coastline for any sign of them. They will report to me if they find anything.”

If they did of course, she thought with a wave of sadness.

It was quite possible she would see none of them ever again. 

“I know Topaz has been actively looking for your Holly.” Neela’s ears perked at this, remembering her second in command dancing like a love-struck doe in the arms of the burly looking centaur.

“And,” Marigold added with a sad smile, “my Eva has joined the hunt for Lola.”

The merqueen sighed shakily, “I suppose I should not be surprised.”

It only seemed beyond obvious that the centaurs would be far more accepting then her own people. It made bitter anger and resentment surge again within but the knowledge that the centaurs were looking muffled the intensity. It only further proved she had no place amongst her own kind.

Taking that rounded face into her hands, Marigold wiped away another tear. “If there is something to find, we will find it.”

Neela smiled dazzlingly up at the other, her hands cupping those around her face. “Thank you.”

Marigold took one of those hands to her lips and kissed it, much like the infamous brave knight to his lady before braving the unknown. “You are welcome. I will return.”

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Here it is, the fourth chapter.

I would like to take this moment to informed you all about a few things concerning this particular fanfic. One, there will be a collection of little snippets concerning some missing information that involves the first three chapters. This will only happen after this part is done and of course if people are still interested. So please let me know if this still appeals to you. Second, instead of doing two parts, I have decided to continue this one through till the end. All this means is it will be longer than I originally planed. But that means you will not have to go hunting for the second part it will all be here.

Again, I want to thank you all for giving this story a try. <3


	5. Valleys of scars and a call from a mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are growing bolder in their attempts to wipe her and her people off the face of the earth. If it had not been for the necessity of breeding, she and her kind would have stayed beneath the waves where they belonged. But their eggs need air and sandy beaches, their mothers nestled up top and patient. They need help in protecting themselves in their most vulnerable of states. Neela, queen of her mermaids and mermen, invokes the help of another breed for assistance. They meet for the first time and almost as soon as the sun casts its glow, she is love struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> \- Blue Diamond – Queen Neela  
> \- Yellow Diamond – Chief Marigold, Marigold Knight  
> \- White Diamond – Empress Blanka  
> \- Blue Pearl - Lola  
> \- Yellow Pearl – Eva Tempest  
> \- Holly Blue Agate - Holly  
> \- Yellow Agate – Hildegard and Hiltrude Gisil  
> \- Pink Diamond – Queen Primrose
> 
> Courts:  
> \- Blue Diamond’s court – Mermaids and mermen  
> \- Yellow Diamond’s court - Centaurs  
> \- Pink Diamond’s court - Dwarves  
> \- White Diamond’s court – Harpies
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Humans are the enemy  
> \- Mermaids and men can live above water, they come on land to breed and lay their eggs, though courtship is performed underwater and above. They wear sea glass and shells and elegant clothing woven from the hair of beasts.  
> \- In the West, full of mountains and spanning flat lands, live the centaurs. They are known for their fighting prowess and strength. They earn the right to do anything within their tribe and clan through fighting. They are almost always wearing armor and the pelts of their kills.  
> \- To the North, hidden in the mountains are the Harpies, they live secluded from everyone else and believe everyone is inferior to them for they can fly. They covet previous items such as gold and diamonds.  
> \- Blue will fall for Marigold almost instantly. Bellow story I don’t care if you don’t like.  
> \- This will be short however if it is liked I will expand. Also, to that note, Pink Diamond will most likely make an appearance in the second part of this story if I choose to continue it beyond the scope of what this part of the tale describes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, this whole thing is purely for fun.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Chapter 5  
Valleys of scars and a call from a mountain

Up and down.

Soft and gradual.

The steady rise and fall of this object were as sleepy and heavy as the very darkness that clung to her still form. Its tempo was precise yet sluggish, gentle in its motions. Soft breathing gradually slipped into her stirring awareness, in time with the rhythm, featherlight as it was muffled. It exhaled and swelled, the harmony of its chorus the first flicker of reality to shine through the haze. 

Although careful and subtle, it grew with ferocity as time trickled by, the necessity of time and its impatience making itself aware to her. Reluctantly, heavy dark wads of fuzzy cotton receded from her vision, tumbling off her shoulders and exposing her to other sensations beyond earing. 

Warmth was the first to strike her, protection and security radiating off the object so tightly pressed to her person. It fluctuated in time with the laboured breaths, almost scorching her skin with a burn that demanded more of her. She nuzzled closer, unable to refuse, even as sweat gathered over her brow and down her back. The comfort it so easily gave was something she needed more than words could express.

She breathed deep, taking note of the smells around her, immediately noticing the flavours of apple and cinnamon to be the strongest. Vanilla, though faint, lingered just below, a sweet caress to the crisp bite of the other aromas. There was however, as she took another lungful, an almost overlooked aftertaste of dog.

Of wolf.

The mermaid blinked at this, her brows furrowing together in confusion. With an air of urgency, she attempted to will the lingering shades of sleep from her eyes, squinting hard at the world around her. Gradually, the darkness finally withdrew and the former queen immediately relaxed upon the realization that she was still nestled within the Chieftain’s chambers. The familiar walls, covered with aged battle memorabilia, and the mannequins, still donned in their respective armor, assured her of that. 

Neela took note however, that the gold one seemed to glow, surreal and alive, in the rising sunlight that cast itself through the window. It seemed to shimmer, as if delighted by the sun’s return and the possible chance to be worn again.

Confident and subdued, the mermaid relaxed full-heartily into the embracing furs that hugged her generously from all angles. Their plush and soft texture felt almost heavenly across her sides and tail.

However, as she burrowed once again into the comfort that cupped her, the dawning sensation of something fairly large laying next to her became apparent. It took only a second for her eyes to take in the still form beside her, the black blanket laying softly against a wide girth and strong equine legs. The former queen felt her heart race again, almost tripping over itself with joy. On instinct, Neela’s hands reached upwards, gently stroking the short fur that was left exposed, tracing haphazard patterns across an equine shoulder. Her tail moved closer, cupping the underbelly that was open and exposed to her, bare and unashamed. The heat that greeted it made her shiver with want, her scales shifting and rattling beneath thick bandages.

When the other did not jerk away, uncaring of the inquisitive hands that danced over her shoulder, Neela continued her investigation of the mare. Her hands applied more pressure, touching more than what her fingertips alone could truly capture. The heat the other exuded seemed to scald her palms but when she looked, there was no blister or irritated skin to be seem. Eventually, the meager contact grew to be just that, insufficient, and the mermaid was encouraged by her longing to push a little harder.

Carefully, as to not disturb the other, Neela repositioned herself, altering her position from her stomach to her right side. Her left flipper came to rest against the girth, her stump of an appendage lightly tucked away within the crease above an equine leg. Pressing their underbellies tightly together, her tail now flaccid across equine hindlegs, the mermaid moved to rest her head upon the very shoulder she had been inspecting.

Deftly, the former queen traced the scars that were within her reach, refusing to investigate any that involved repositioning the heavy blanket. Though Marigold had shown her the damage of her profession, the haste in which she had clasped the cloth back on assured Neela it was still a sore subject. 

Despite being bold enough to expose her own flaws, the centaur most likely did not approve of them, even when she alone was there to bare witness to them. Considering that most of them, by the centaur’s own confession, were marks of careless indifference and reckless vigor, they seemed to serve as horrible remainders of what she had done, rather than testaments of her strength.

The last thing Neela wanted was to push the Chieftain away, especially after finally obtaining what she wanted. The centaur had given her more than enough and she would not be greedy with what she was given. The mermaid new that given time, the right to completely inspect them would be allocated to her, but now was not such a time. As their relationship stood now, the former Merqueen would use this moment merely to feel the ones that were not too invasive.

If only to truly understand the reality of them and the devastation left behind.

Before her own injuries, Neela had known nothing of pain, besides the death of court members and naturally, the death of her mother. Psychological pain, such as never seeing her loved ones again, was something she was intimately familiar with. Neela could sympathise and empathize, for unfortunately, she had seen much death within her own court, more than should ever be recorded. However, physical hurt was something of a mystery, something she had neither expected, nor had been prepared for. If danger had come for her, the members of her court would swim forward to take the hit, sparing her the sting and torture of its desolation.

Briefly, a dull, thumping ache snapped up the length of her tail and she hissed quietly, thankful that it lasted but a moment before disappearing completely. It was almost as if it had never happened and had been nothing less than a figment of her imagination. 

Neela eyed the generous bandages coiled around her royal blue appendage, noticing that in some places, they were stained a faint brownish red. The white had almost completely transformed to yellow, looking sickly and unwell. Whatever the centaurs had used to control her pain had been quite potent, Neela having no real memory of being in any type of pain. The only time she could recall, was her time strewn across the white sanded beach as gull circled warily over head.

Since the centaurs had found her, thanks to a white wolf clad in glistening armor, all it had ever been to her was mild discomfort, if anything. However, it seemed even they had a limit of duration.

They would need to be changed again and more of those soothing herbs and remedies would need to be applied.

Then again, with consideration to the damage covering the girth next to her, she wondered if her injuries, minus her flipper, had been all that serious. Had all that sobbing and wailing truly been necessary?

A sudden whimper stopped the Merqueen’s thoughts dead and she bolted upright, her heart suddenly aflutter with panic. She instantly thought of her court, their limitless anger and hostility, and for a spilt second, the mermaid thought she was back underwater. It had felt so real that her second set of lungs flexed into action, immediately trying to breath in water and not air.

Neela choked and shook her head, grabbing the abundant furs beneath her, quietly attempting to reign her instincts in. It took but a few seconds, the world gradually soaking up colours that were not limited to different saturations of blue. Taking another steading breath, the former queen turned to look at the mare, relieved that her sudden outburst had not woken her.

The centaur leader slept on, her features soft and slack, not a trace of worry or stress to be found. 

The noise had most assuredly not come from her.

Confused, Neela glanced around the room, hoping to find the source of the sound, half of her praying her fit had not been correct. Almost immediately, her heart swooned with relief, her eyes falling on the joined forms of Marigold’s Direwolves, all pilled snuggly onto an offered blanket. 

The mass of furs were bundled so tightly together that it was almost difficult to distinguish one from the other. The only one the former ruler could spot indefinitely was Yesifr, whom was squashed lovingly into the middle of the dog pile. Feet and tails were entangled together, stretching and flexing as they yawned and moved. Their snores fell almost in tandem with one another, the pile of fur swelling and deflating like an oversized fluffy organ. 

A heart.

As one lifted its head to yawn, saber like teeth flashing in the muted light. It looked at her with sleepy eyes for only a second before placing its skull up top another. It sighed heavily, licking its lips, before diving back into its world of dreams and promises. 

Neela could not help but smile at them before returning her head to the equine shoulder, resuming her feeling touch.

Some of the scars were deep, substantial grooves that upset the natural slopes and curves of the labouring chest. Her fingers found one in particular that had engraved its mark at least two inches into the flesh, her dainty claw completely fitting inside. The skin located there felt rough and mangled, obviously having had to cover the wound several times before finally sealing the portal off. The fur rimmed the profound scar like a fence, never daring to descend upon the mutilated flesh. 

Still visible to her, she watched the laceration stretch and relax with each breath the mare took, looking as if it would simply burst open at any moment. Frowning, Neela continued her investigation, feeling the embossed ridges that were hidden from her lax position.

Each was unique, depicting their own story by width, length and depth. Not one was a replica of the other, at least from this side of the slumbering centaur. Some the mermaid knew to have been cleaved by a sword, the clean edge and narrowed tips from start to finish convinced her of that. Others were ragged, uneven, distinctly torn asunder by claws, something Neela had exhaustive knowledge of. 

Although, none of her injuries could remotely compare to the devastation hewn upon Marigold’s body. 

The most disturbing of grievances however, her claws having hooked on something considerably deep, were the wounds that were circular. This was the vicious kiss of an arrow and there were three clumped tightly together right above Neela’s head, behind the equine shoulder.

Others extended far beyond anything the former queen could interpret and she was curious yet fearful, of the damage that was beyond her reach. There was not one patch of flesh that had been spared from the trade of battle, the mermaid’s fingers frequently veering in and out of prominent fissures. As blue eyes glanced down, almost rolling down the length of the mare’s shoulder, she observed that even her legs had endured some level of battle. Though they were scarce and far between in comparison, a few nicks and gashes, nothing more.

It seemed that most of the time, all enemies had aimed for the girth and nothing else.

However, the Merqueen recollected Marigold mentioning something about her human half being far worse for wear.

In puzzlement, the mermaid lifted herself up again, using her flipper and steady hands to pivot her upper half. Carefully balancing her weight, her tail flattening against the furred bedding, Neela observed the other in silent awe. The mare’s face remained peaceful despite the movement, quietly pressed into the embrace of a pillow with arms clutched tight to her chest. Even while asleep, the centaur wore a full white tunic, her arms and neck completely covered from view. The only thing that Neela could spot for certain, besides the little cuts on the mare’s face, were the criss-crossing lacerations over her knuckles.

The mermaid knew that to be the result of breaking skin during brutally exchanged punches.

Prudently, as to not disturb the Chieftain, Neela hefted herself up again, hoping to drape her human half alongside that of the hybrid. The mare hummed and shifted, a muscular hindleg stretching out, but otherwise did not move. Her content sigh, heavy but soft, urged Neela to move again. The Direwolves did not stir either, quietly snorting amongst their huddled masses.

Tenderly, the former queen pressed herself against the Chieftain, their hips flush against one another, only Marigold’s hands stood as a divider between their chests. Neela refused to move them however, positive that such an action would jostle the other awake. The Merqueen’s elongated flipper found its rightful spot up top the equine shoulder, the slender hook only lightly pressing into the human hipbone. It snagged subtly at the white fabric of the tunic, ensuring its purchase. 

Neela took a moment to observe the stunning visage before her, this being her first opportunity to truly inspect the little nicks across that angular face. They had long since faded with time, lack luster scars that seemed more abundant on her pointed cheeks and across her nose than anywhere else. One followed the slope from nose to eye, trailing in the shadow of the exhaustion that tainted the skin there. Only a foot or so away from her face, Neela took notice of the tattoo like markings under each eye, each positioned in the corner of the eye closest to the nose. At first, the mermaid had assumed them to be caused by lack of sleep, but now, they looked nothing of the like.

She wondered if they had any relevance.

Sighing, the mermaid resisted the urged to card her fingers though the mare’s slopping bangs, instead, choosing to nuzzle her face into the offered collarbone. Again, the mare shifted in her dreams, an equine foreleg folding over the mermaid’s tail, most likely out of instinct. Neela hissed softly, feeling its substantial weight baring down on sensitive flesh that itched with a reforming burn.

It had found purchase over a particularly massive gash across the former queen’s lower hip, one that had been cleaved a little deeper than all the others she had sustained that night. However, Neela refused to force the leg to move. The mare was still asleep, thoroughly exhausted by all that had transpired yesterday. The last thing Neela wanted was to disturb her.

The former Merqueen refused to deny her anything.

Despite the blistering of the pressure evoked by the heavy limb, the comfort exchanged in the tiny gesture made the mermaid coil tighter with contentment. Happily, the mermaid looked up at the sleeping face before her, noticing another faint nick across the mare’s plump lower lip. 

Tentatively, the water hybrid reached up, brushing her polished claws along the slope of the mare’s neck, letting her talons lightly scrape against the raised ridge of her collarbone. The resulting murmur that it induced had Neela cursing sourly in her skull, thinking she had pushed too far. Instead, the equine leg draped over her hip pulled her microscopically closer, a sigh breathing faintly overhead.

The yellow diamond embedded in sea glass flickered in the creeping light as she drew a large breath, following obediently to the swell of her generous chest. Neela momentarily considered making another pendant, if only to entice her wicked little fantasy into light. 

Baby steps, she thought to herself.

The mermaid could and would be patient, for in the end, the mare would be flashing from crown to hoof in gemstones and gold. Arousal prickled down her spine with a sudden cold, yet quickly searing rush, coursing from the back of her neck, right down to the tip of her tail. 

She could picture it, beads of shimmering precious metals cascading like waves down the sides of the mare’s girth, pooling at her feet like puddles of wealth. There would be a crown of her own up top her skull, perched proudly upon tussled blond locks. Neela would be sure to add a long hanging trinket around the female’s narrow throat, if only to sweep down into the area between her breasts. 

Her flipper moved higher, even if only by an inch, the little hook looking for more give to press themselves closer together. The mermaid shivered, her hand brushing against the side of the Chieftain’s ribs, instinctively following the slope of her ribcage and down to her hips.

Feeling bold, the Merqueen leaned forward, pressing a few shy kisses across the skin open to her, her wandering hand coming to rest on the bony human hip. The other found its mark on the fabric of the folded arms.

Unfortunately, this seemed to be the incentive for the leader of centaurs to wake.

With an uneven breath, the massive body eventually pulled itself from its heavy slumber, those smoldering golden eyes forcibly blinking the clouds of darkness away. Neela watched them dilate and constrict, adjusting to the muted lighting of the cozy chamber. Within seconds, the centaur took note of their close proximity, that once relaxed body going unnaturally still. 

Red flushed hard and fast across that freckled nose, those eyes darting everywhere that was not the mermaid’s face and Neela purred at the sight. Although she loved the common facade of fierce intimidation Marigold had mastered, the aquatic hybrid could not deny her deepening attraction towards the bashful sweetness the mare could exude. It seemed to be reserved for her and her alone, a secret she would be the keeper of. 

Smiling, the former queen allowed her tail to roll up the side of the mare’s girth, affectively draping like a scaly boa over the equine back. The female shuddered beneath her; the tremor slight, but there.

Swallowing, attempting to regain control over herself, the mare looked down at the mermaid, “Did you sleep well?”

Her voice was husky from her sleep and it plucked at something very hungry within the former queen’s chest.

“I did.” Said Neela, running her claws again over the offered skin, feeling the other take a shaky breath.

Her other hand remained where it was, her claws skimming over the ruffled tunic. “Very much so.”

The mare took a second to feel their current situation, observing the coils tossed over her back with an expression Neela could not completely decipher. It was not repulsion or anger but there was a level of anxiety within it. Perhaps it was not the position of her tail but the damage she was considering. Most likely the mare was analyzing the tainted bandages, the pristine white all gone and with dried blood patches scattered throughout. 

As golden eyes followed the length of the tail, she took notice of her equine foreleg and its position. She blushed hotly again, her eyes tumbling to look at the floor before flexing it, as if to test if it was really there. 

Neela hissed sharply at the action, feeling her injury pull threateningly to one side. She could almost imagine the paper-thin fibers of her flesh straining to keep themselves together.

Marigold stopped her analysis and looked at her, regret practically leaking from her pores. Immediately and without a sound, she began to moved her heavy leg off the other. It folded neatly between them, affectively dislodging the hold of Neela’s flipper and hook.

“Did I hurt you?” the blond asked, a hand reaching down to gingerly ghost over the place her leg had just been.

As the pain ebbed away, nothing but a memory, the mermaid frowned at its absence. Boldly, she reached for the limp, readjusting it on her hips. It now rested but an inch or two below the damage. The mermaid was pleased the action had been meet with no resistance, the mare willingly letting her manipulate a part of her body.

Repositioning her flipper, the thick membrane cupping the equine shoulder and hip, Neela looked up into those gilded eyes with a bashful smile, “Not in the slightest.”

Although not entirely convinced, the mare seemed to relax nonetheless, her shoulders unhitching from their raised position. Behind her, a golden tail flickered and whipped.

“Good.” She paused and shifted, heaving her human half up to look over the mermaid and at the door. Immediately, her eyes grew distant with resolve, the muscles along her jaw tightening.

Within a second however, the expression softened, a gentle smile offered down at the former queen. Hesitantly, weary of her movements, a pale hand reached out to cup the side of Neela’s jaw, her thumb brushing featherlight against the tanned flesh. The mermaid felt her heart quicken, another shock of arousal splintering up her spine.

“I must get up before Gilford comes looking for me.” She admitted quietly, “But I will return periodically to check on you.”

But Neela was not willing to budge. 

As the hand pulled away from her cheek, Neela lunged forward, grabbing fistfuls of tunic and crushing her lips against those of the centaur. The Chieftain fell back against the bedspread with a gasp of surprise, giving the mermaid the opportunity to slot their mouths tightly together. Marigold moaned softly in answer, cautiously leaning into the kiss. One of her hands moved to stroke the spot where scales turned to skin, the other had taken to resting on the flat of the mermaid’s stomach. The Merqueen shivered wantonly under the touch, feeling it through the thin tunic the centaurs had given her. 

Her old royal violet garment had been completely destroyed by the claws of her ravenous court, leaving barely any shreds to cover her bosom. Pleasure thudded through her when she remembered it was one of those belonging to Marigold, that the mermaid was wearing her new lover’s scent. Shuddering, the hybrid permitted her tail to slide up and over the equine flanks, feeling the evident muscle hidden just beneath the blanket. 

Marigold took a shaky breath, their lips unlocking from each other with an inaudible pop but after a quick inhale, Neela was back on her again. The mare responded by willing her hand to move, gently feeling the dips and curves of the mermaid’s stomach. Naked pads managed to brush over flesh as clothing was brushed to the side.

The touch sent shivers and a scorching burn down the length of Neela’s tail, her body curling tighter against the equine half. Letting her hands grab that narrow visage, the former queen licked timidly over swollen lips, asking for permission. The other hesitated for a second before relenting, titling her head to the side for easier access. Neela mewled as her tongue brushed up against Marigold’s, delighted to feel the other answer in kind. Together, they danced to a beat that was similar, yet different, to the tune that played at the festival of spring.

Her fins wanted to extend, to display as they should and could for the heat that was pounding through her blood. It scorched almost as painfully as the lacerations across her body, yet they did not ebb away with time, they only seemed to grow hotter with each passing second. The mermaid could feel it gathering prominently in her loins, her scales feeling unbearably itchy and rough. However, the bandages were rejecting her need, tightly constricting her displaying fins to keep them clean. Neela could only whimper, her hands now grabbing frantically at the tunic, wanting so much more of the other.

The sensations were new, frightening, yet commanding, willing her body to do its biding. She was helpless in its instinctual pull, though the nerve to fight it back was non-existent. The mermaid wished to tussle with this golden hybrid across shimmering beaches, to toss sand and shell into the air as they fumbled at one another like desperate rut hungry beasts. The hands slipping under her tunic and across her sides were not helping, the nimble fingers tracing the gills that lined the space between her hips and ribs. They fingered them so delicately, as if they would simply peel right off of her if probed too hard, that it was steadily driving Neela to insanity. 

However, the mare was suddenly pushing her away, hands that had been caressing her to intimately were now attempting to put distance between them. The mermaid snarled viciously, digging her claws and hook into the skin of the other, refusing to budge. Even as blood pounded through her body, almost a noise like chatter to her ears, the mermaid was still caught off guard by the viciousness of the action.

She could distinctly remember seeing members of her own court behaving so violently, especially when an intended partner did not wish to completely participate in their seasonal dance. The thought of her court however only brought shame and anger to her senses, which slacked her hold of her centaur. Instead of unbearable heat blistering within her chest, she felt a cold breeze rattle her insides, her stump of her flipper burning with rekindled animosity.

Thankfully, there was no damage, her claws not even leaving a dent across the thick skin of the centaur Chieftain. It also seemed that the action itself had been entirely missed by Marigold. 

With enough distance between them, the mare shocked the mermaid by rolling over onto her back, both bellies facing the ceiling. The changed position confused Neela, the hybrid barely having enough time to stabilize herself as the bed groaned under the shifting of weight. 

The Direwolves only slept on, either ignorant or uncaring of the activities transpiring on their master’s bed. Only Yesfir had raised her head and taken a gander at her owner, but with a toothy yawn, she returned to her slumber.

With motioning hands, the centaur expressed to the water hybrid to come closer, that bashful look back upon her flushed face. It seemed to burn with the reddened skin, the fever extending across her cheeks and down that long neck. It was only when Neela took into consideration the equine forelegs, which were folded as closely to Marigold’s person as possible, that realization hit her. 

In a second, her thoughts towards her court were forgotten.

Hastily, arousal driving her movements, the mermaid clambered up the side of the centaur’s girth, placing herself pretty and secure between the equine forelegs. Her flipper found its rightful spot against the horse shoulder, hook latching onto crumbled fabric.

Their hips touching, Neela staggered forwards to connect their lips again, unbearable heat scorching through her length again. It was surreal to be on top of her, their underbellies flush against one another, naked as they were raw. A sense of ownership curled within Neela’s chest, her heart hammering at the sight of the mare below her, willingly submitting herself to the mermaid’s touch. Without looking, the former queen knew her lower regions to be reacting, sexually floored by not only their position, but the feel of the unsteady breathes beneath her. Their laboured fluttering was sparking something new in Neela and it was something she wished to be intimately familiar with.

Marigold moaned lowly in answer, their lips once again capturing one another. Her arms had chosen to wrap tightly around Neela’s waist, pulling her as close at their different bodies would merit. The Merqueen, however, was exploring yet again, letting her fingers touch and scrape across the lavish chest before her. With no constricting leather vest or armor to mute what was underneath, the tunic gave more than what she could have hoped for. They looked soft, subtle and round, almost begging her to take a bite, even if fabric was all she would taste.

The former queen had fantasized over touching them for quite some time and now, with her given position, she was going to take it. 

Still melding their lips together, her tongue running flush against noticeable fangs, Neela moved her hands from the bony hips to slide up the mare’s chest and to their intended target. As her thumbs brushed under the centaur’s breasts, Marigold withered, emitting such a soft noise that Neela’s ears had almost missed it. Curious, the water hybrid pulled away from swollen lips to look down at the Chieftain, her heart throbbing under the red face and laboured breathing. 

With rapt attention, her hands mimicked the movement again.

The blond shook with pleasure, the sound that escaped her lips desperate and visceral.

It made something within the mermaid want to crush in and onto itself, if only to burst a second later into a ball of flames.

Neela quickly determined she needed more of that sound, the pitch and tone causing an unsettling, yet delicious ache to bloom within her. In the former queen’s desperation, she missed the queue of the Direwolves suddenly bolting upright, eyes trained on the door. The muffled, near whispered growls, rattling off their frames a clear give away that something was coming.

The door subsequently slamming open stopped everything dead, all the hounds leaping quickly to their feet in surprise and touchable merriment. They howled with jubilation; the sound almost too loud to their ears.

“Marigold, what on earth is taking you so-oh.” Gilford blinked as he regarded the pair and Neela felt her skin burn with embarrassment.

Immediately, she wanted nothing more than to curl into herself, roll within the thin space under the bed and never come out. Her bold actions quickly replayed in her head and with them, the frightening realization that she was behaving no better than her sex hungry court on days of the rut.

The Direwolves were unperturbed by what was transpiring, instead taking stock of the stallion within their den and running curious noses over his body. They sniffed and even licked at the black blanket cast over his equine half, a few even taking tasting bites at the hanging belts. They shoved and nipped like excited children upon their father’s return, grazing long fangs over his exposed ebony fur. Tails wagging, practically shaking their frames with joy, they padded in circles, weaving between his legs.

Sheepishly, the stallion fumbled with himself in the door way, his hands roughly smoothing out his matching tunic before folding behind his back. He cleared his throat, his face settling into a rather tight expression. “I did not mean to disturb you.”

Marigold sighed heavily, her hands moving to rest on Neela’s hips. “You could have knocked Gilford.”

“I could have but alas,” he intoned, looking not the least bit contrite in his actions, “I did not.” 

Those blue eyes narrowed tightly, “It goes not change the fact that we have things to accomplish today.”

Marigold rolled her eyes, his patronizing tone not lost on her. Neela could feel the muscles below her flex in mild agitation. “All of which will be done.”

Gilford mimicked her, the sourness across his face looking potent enough to curdle milk simply by looking at it. His eyes glanced at the former queen. “Not with a fairly pretty damsel sitting on your stomach.”

The two in question exchanged looks, Neela feeling her face burn with restored heat that extended far below her chest. Her neck felt as if hands of fire were attempting to suffocate her, that touch sending an uncomfortable ringing through her ears. Marigold frowned up at the aquatic hybrid, remorse and understanding shinning through her molten eyes. Beneath her, the mermaid felt the centaur take a shuttering breath and the ripple it caused along her underbelly was nothing short of sensational.

Gently, the Chieftain urged Neela to dismount her, her eyes sympathetic when Neela first refused the motion. Her hook sunk in a little deeper into the tunic and she refused to look Gilford in the eye. “I am sorry Neela.”

The Merqueen sulked but eventually relented, sensing and feeling the droning glare Gilford was pointing her way. Carefully, the mermaid slid off the belly of the centaur, the other’s hands helping her greatly with this action. The last thing either of them wanted was to have her toppling over the edge and onto the ground. 

When a hand brushed against her cheek, Neela found the mare to be staring at her intently. Worry written so clearly on her face it was legible. Heart fluttering at the gesture, the mermaid smiled up at her, hoping to ease her concern. “It’s alright.”

There would be time later, she knew this.

Nodding in understanding, the mare pulled her hand away and rolled herself back onto her belly, the movement surprisingly graceful. She took a few moments to adjust her tunic before standing, as if afraid it had come undone in the scuffle. 

All at once, what little skin had been displayed was covered again, the dark blanket buckled securely around her girth and frame. The bed moved as the centaur dismounted, her shoe-less hooves clanking softly against solid cold stone.

Neela immediately missed the warmth and protection of the other, unable to stop herself from sending her own heated glare in Gilford’s direction. The stallion ignored her completely, his attention solely on the leader.

Yesfir bounded up to her master with a whine and a grin full of fangs, nuzzling hard and needy against those strong equine legs. The others moved quickly to join her, all promptly forgetting about the stallion and his presence. 

“What is this about Gilford?” asked Marigold, casually adjusting her cuffs, her Chieftain like air taking control again. “You rarely come to my home unannounced.”

“I have news.” He responded flatly, looking briefly over at Neela.

His expression suggested to the former queen that her presence was unwanted, that her simply existing within their leader’s den was causing the stallion a level of discomfort and confliction. His stiff posture and tightened tone expressed that well enough and it left the mermaid fumbling under the unease of the situation. 

His sudden hostility to her was perplexing, she not understanding what she had done wrong to warrant this behaviour from the male. He had been very accepting of mermaids from the beginning of the contract, if anything only cautious, but that was to be expected. His job as second in command was to explore possible avenues that the Chieftain might not be aware of and he was merely being wary. This new attitude was a complete shift from what she was used to.

Had she unintentionally offended him?

If that was the case however, Marigold was blissfully, or stubbornly, unaware of it. The mare only continued to grill her commanding officer; arms stapled behind her back. “What kind of news?”

He paused a moment, his eyes once again falling to Neela before snapping back towards his leader. His voice, normally so strong and undeterred, vibrated with a hint of unease, “From Amaryllis.”

The blond mare clicked her tongue, irritation evident upon her face. Around her, the Direwolves were desperately seeking any possible scrap of attention. Eager and feisty, they pranced like love struck puppies, heavy panting now joining the chorus of sound. One, his pelt black with speckles of white splashed across his hips, seemed to be trying to climb her.

Yesfir growled hotly in his direction, teeth bared and gleaming, clearly upset over his antics. He whimpered shrilly and dashed out of striking distance; tail tucked between his legs.

“So,” the Chieftain drawled, looking far from pleased, “it is word from Primrose.”

Neela blinked, looking between the two centaurs with confusion, “What’s Amaryllis?”

Gilford looked bored and strangely on edge, speaking before Marigold could answer. “It is a mountain, located to the north-west and is home to the dwarves and their queen.”

Neela could not help but flounder, instantly regretting her decision to vocalize anything. She felt strikingly like the child being reprimanded for speaking out of turn. If it had not been blatantly clear before, it was now, the mermaid absolutely sure that the stallion was furious at her being present for the given conversation.

Marigold moved swiftly, trotting toward one of her bookcases and selecting a particular tome from its dusted shelf. The dogs naturally followed her every move, still spinning and twisting between her legs. 

How she managed not to trip over them was nothing short of a miracle.

It was cracked and worn with years of use, the pages yellow and dry, splintering like skin that had been roasted under the heat of the sun. Book in hand, the mare promptly marched back up to the mermaid and extended the book over to her. Neela spared her a curious glance before taking it, almost dropping it to the floor when the true weight of the tome rested in her palms. 

It was heavier than she had first expected, metal clearly noticeable in its spine. Across its dull crimson face were embossed gold letters she could not hope to read.

The water hybrid looked up at the mare, struggling to keep the six-inch thick tome in her grip. Marigold smiled softly and encouraged her to lay the book flat upon her bed, casually flipping through chapters of written text and illustrations as the mermaid watched. The dogs surveyed as well, sniffing the air as each page was turned, obviously noting the different smells that had been locked between the thin parchment. 

Finding what she was looking for, the mare tapped a refined finger against the selected page, right over where Neela could only assume, was the inscribed name. 

Although the words were nothing but jargon to Neela, the image itself needed no explanation.

In the center of the page, surrounded by alien writing, was a massive mountain, its towering peak commanding much of the sheet. Circling overhead, swirling with malicious intent, loomed a terrifying storm, its depicted lightning strikes webbing across clouds and sky. Up and down its slopes, were buildings of marvelous and inspiring design, but the most curious of which were the towers. Thousands of them were erected all over the mountain’s façade, standing taller and greater than any of the other structures. They were curved, like bull horns, reaching as if to touch the churning gale over head. A couple stray bolts of raw energy struck a few of these erected pillars, as if drawn in by the obscurity of their construction.

A massive hollow had been dug into the side of the mountain, obviously the grand entrance to the bowels of the forsaken mountain. Towering sculptures at each side, supporting an arch that dwarfed all in its shadow, it spoke of power and royalty that could only be found inside its catacombs. They were given human shape, but their stocky proportions and overly muscular arms promised Neela they were nothing of the sort.

When Neela glance up again in question, she was met with a reassuring grin, “This is Mont Amaryllis.” Knight tapped again on the image for emphasis, “Home to the oldest and strongest of dwarf families, the Gidal clan. It is the largest mountain to ever be claimed by dwarf kind.”

The mermaid observed the structure again, running her fingers over the weathered parchment, feeling the noticeable grooves of the frantic stripling that made the configuration of the drawing. Dimly, though she would never voice it, the mermaid could not help but wonder how big it stood in comparison to the one owned by Blanka herself. 

Or even if that ominous mountain was christened with a name.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Gilford shift impatiently and decided that if she did ask, it would be when the male had left.

Neela looked up again, trying to ignore the heated gaze from the stallion standing like a statue within the door frame.

“What does it mean? Amaryllis?”

“It means fresh and sparkling.” Answered the mare, “Like all the gems that lay in thick veins below that mountain. It has sustained countless kings and queen before Primrose and it sure to continue the dwarven line for centuries to come long after her death.”

Neela could only wonder how long that was. Was their lifespan as long as a mermaid or centaur? Could they live for hundreds of centauries, or perhaps even longer?

Was their lust for gold as strong as that of a dragon?

These were all things she would ask when the time was right.

Neela cast a look towards Gilford, whom looked to be inspecting the ceiling. Now was not the time.

Carefully, the mare took the book away, ambling over to its rightful bookshelf to place it back within its designated slot. The dogs followed her closely, as even the smallest of distance was to suddenly tear her away from them.

As the Chieftain did this, slipping the substantial tome back into its slot, she looked over her shoulder, leveling Gilford with a curious expression. “Did she say why she needed to speak with me?”

The stallion stamped his foot, his tail, Neela noted, was angrily swishing about behind him. “No.” he almost seemed to be spitting out the word, as if it tasted horrible, “As usual, the little urchin demands an audience before speaking her facts. She does nothing but waste our time.”

To some degree, Neela was assured that most of the stallion’s anger was not solely directed towards her, but in fact, the current situation. It seemed the subject of this Primrose caused some level of tension, though why and how were both a mystery to the former queen. Although she could not completely discount the animosity directed towards her, it was evident that the implication of this other leader was driving some of this anger out into the open. 

Perhaps it was even fuelling it to some degree.

Marigold shook her head in disapproval, glaring softly at the stallion before her, her arms now moving to cross her arms over her chest. Between her legs, two brown hounds chased each other in touchable excitement. “Her warnings have helped us considerably in the past, Gilford.”

His hands moved to rest on his hips, a brow raised, “And let us astray completely on others.”

“Be that as it may,” intoned the Chieftain, her own tail giving a flicker, “she is till part of the alliance. I cannot turn a blind eye.”

He narrowed his eyes and glared hotly, looking only a second away from pouting in his displeasure, “What if it is another far-fetched lie?”

“Then I will have to use terms she will understand.” The implications of this suggestion sent a shiver down Neela’s spine, one that was a strange mixture of fear and elation.

“She is a brat.” He spat with distain, one of his back legs stomping hard on the floor. The dogs stopped for but a second to look over at him, sniffing and tasting the air with curious tongues before thinking nothing of it.

Marigold rolled her eyes and the former queen was beginning to wonder if they had forgotten she was here. “Gilford.”

He looked away, glaring daggers at the floor. “I only speak the truth.”

“Regardless, how far is she from our village?” she inquired, her hand finally reaching down to stroke Yesfir’s ears.

The Direwolf howled with joy and the others were swift to join her.

Gilford’s anger however, was taken up a notch. “Her silly love sick pigeon came to me but a few minutes ago.”

Neela blinked owlishly. Love sick Pigeon?

“Then we have little more than a few hours.” Knight grumbled darkly, “She always gives us little to no time to prepare.”

For but a second, a flicker of hope flashed brightly over the stallion’s shimmering blue eyes. “Can we not just send her away?”

Marigold’s expression could have driven the mermaid into a fit of giggles if she had not been so captivated by the exchange. “Gilford.”

“Fine.” He barked in exasperation, throwing his arms up into the air before tightly crossing them, “But I will not like it.”

The Chieftain shook her head again, “You do not have to like it.”

“I don’t understand.” Pipped Neela, the two centaurs immediately turning around to face her, “If she is not trustworthy, then why keep her as an alliance member?”

The stallion rolled his eyes hard, “I have asked myself that question for nearly a century.”

Marigold decided to completely ignore him, though the look of exasperation was evident and clear on her face and it took some time before she could reign it in.

“Dwarves are loyal to the core as well as fantastic fighters; Primrose is no exception.” Knight swiftly defended, “But she is young and naïve, she often forgoes her duties in the name of behaving like a child.”

Gilford nodded vigorously at that, his short blond hair bouncing.

Neela blinked, still not entirely sure she understood, “What are you going to do?”

“I am going to see her and see what she has to say.” Came a gradual replay, “I should be able to determine if it is a barefaced lie or the truth.”

Gilford only continued to grumble from across the room. “It is a waste of time and resources.”

“Gilford.”

He stomped his hoof again, “Fine, fine. I get it.”

“Neela?”

The mermaid blinked at the sound of her name and looked up, blushing at the truly sincere look that was affixed onto the Chieftain’s face. She had turned completely around to face her, Yesfir pinched contently between her front forelegs. The others continued to move like a swarm around her.

“Yes?”

“The doctor recommended staying in an herbal bath for a few days to help encourage your wounds to heal.” She began, a hand reaching down to brush softly against a tall standing whit ear. “He left a few bags for you to use till your next appointment.”

The Merqueen frowned, feeling her phantom limp ache with a pain that should not be there. “I have trouble walking. I can’t make it to the bathroom.”

For a distinct moment, she wondered how she had made it the last few times during her exhausted state.

A strangely bright smile curved over Knight’s lips, the smirk remarkedly rabid and cunning. “Gilford is going to help.”

The stallion blinked and stared at his leader. “I beg your pardon?”

Looking over her shoulder, the chief of the centaurs gave her second in command the equivalent of a shit-eating grin. “I need you to run some hot water. There is a bag of herbs the doctor left specifically for Neela’s injuries. Simply dump the contents of one bag into the full tub.”

He raised a brow in question, “What will you do?”

“I am going to carry Neela inside.”

He rolled his eyes again, mumbling something about delays before spinning around to head out the door, “Fine.”

As he left, his hoofbeats were noticeably unsteady and uneven, not falling into a rhythm she had come to expect from the equine hybrids. Once again, Neela took note of the limp in his stride, the obvious reluctance he showed in applying any pressure to his left hindleg. It was not considerable, his weight not lurching with each step her took, but it was enough to consider serious damage had been done. Even when he had been standing, the foot in question did not completely touch the ground, it was always raised, ever so gently touching the floor.

Yet, even with no armor to cover the area, the mermaid could not see any obvious damage inflicted anywhere in the area. 

Perhaps the issue was located further up? Hidden somewhere under the generous blanket?

She would have to ask Marigold.

Shooing her hounds away, they whimpering with sadness, Marigold carefully positioned herself at the edge of the bed, kneeling until her underbelly rested soundly against the floor. Immediately, the dogs flew at her sides, eager to lick her face and jump over her back, finally able to reach her. However, a swift hand gesture had them respectfully padding away. Yesfir was the only one to stay relatively close by. 

Neela gazed at the mare and moved herself over, carefully urging her body onto the female’s back. Marigold helped her as best she could, guiding her and offering stability where she clearly had none.

Yesfir and another hound, coloured black with a gold mask across its face, assisted her actions as well. They leapt onto the bed of furs, pressing themselves tightly against the mermaid’s sides, steadily pushing her forward. Neela stroked them lovingly, contented by the hearty whimpers and whines they emitted in kind.

Once at the boarder, the former Merqueen circled her arms around Marigold’s chest, right under her breasts. Her good flipper grasped at what it could, hook entangling itself yet again in the loose-fitting tunic. One of Knight’s hand grabbed tentatively at the mermaid’s lacking side, offering support. Neela’s tail was left to run down the equine back, following the curve of the steady spine.

“Ready, Neela?” called the mare, one equine leg already in position to move.

The water hybrid nodded and clung tighter, bracing herself. “Yes.”

“Hold on, I will try to be gentle.” True to her word, she did just that, gradually raising herself from the ground to stand on all four hooves.

The experience was a little jarring, only because Neela had never been raised in such a fashion before, the only thing that had ever carried her weight being water and current. Even with the heavy blanket between them, the mermaid had felt every flex and pull of sinew and muscle as the centaur unfolded her legs to stand. 

As she looked down, observing the fury bodies that dashed this way and that between their master’s legs, the mermaid felt her stomach flip uneasily. They raced like ecstatic bees, swarming in masses that lacked coordination around them. More so, the height to which she was lifted from the ground was unsettling, much too far of a fall for her body to take.

No doubt feeling the former queen flinch hard against her, the mare waited for the hybrid to relax, standing still and strong.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, her flipper hugging closer to the centaur’s hip, the Merqueen simply decided she would not look down. Pressing her face between the human shoulder blades, Neela urged herself to relax, even if only a little.

Taking this as the go ahead, Marigold moved for the door, following the path that Gilford had started, her Direwolves closely in tow. 

It was relatively short trip, merely steeping out the door and into the one beside it, the chamber Neela had originally taken for the lavatory. It was apparent that her guess had been correct.

As the Chieftain came to a halt, the mermaid willed herself to look at her surroundings, though her death grip around the mare’s chest did not slacken.

Although not as large as the bedroom, it was more than wide enough for both centaurs to stand comfortably and not be at risk running into each other. The interior was much the same as the bedroom, stone laden floors with wooden walls, a few fixed yet not aflame torches present for lighting during the darkest hours of nightfall. To the right was towering stall, a sink with cabinets was fixed beside it and on the left, was a large tub, constructed from stone and wood. It was raised, a slopped incline leading up to it, though it still stood a few feet short from touching the rim. This meant that the equine hybrid had to step over the wall in order to get inside. 

The mermaid could see this being a problem for her later on.

Before them stood Gilford, slightly hunched over the running water, the steam hazing out like a fog around him. In his hands was a sack, a mix of different plants pouring out from it and into the water, turning it slightly greenish in colour. There was a few more of these sacks pressed tightly against the wall, obviously for the next few times the mermaid would need to soak her wounds.

Behind them, Neela could hear the hounds snorting expectantly somewhere below her, no doubt still zigzagging between their master’s legs like naughty children.

Once it had filled, the stallion turned the steel fashioned levers, shutting off the flux of water, and moved out of the way, performing a small bow at his leader. Although he still looked tense and agitated, his mood had lessened to some degree and when he glanced at Neela, the hostility she had seen was nearly none-existent.

Perhaps all it had been was the knowledge of this Primrose paying a surprize visit and nothing more?

It did throw a kink into their plans for the day. From an organizational point of view, Neela could understand his displeasure.

Holly would have behaved the same way if something uncalled for dared to encroach itself into her monthly planed schedule. Her furious vocals could be heard for miles as she gave the one responsible a tongue lashing, they would not soon forget.

The thought of her companions had Neela’s heart fluttering in sadness, still unsure if she would ever see her or even Lola ever again. The mermaid was not even sure if they were alive, or still in fact part of the court. It was quite possible that they could have been cast out, just as she was, for her heresy.

Marigold nodded at him; her face unreadable from Neela’s current position. “Thank you, Gilford.”

For the first time, a small smile graced his face, “You are most welcome.”

Stepping down from the ledge, the commanding officer moved well out of the way.

Carefully, Knight stepped up the ramp, turning around to properly a line herself, before lowering down to her belly again. Pressing herself close, the stone side of the basin tight against Marigold’s equine half, the female looked over to the mermaid, extending a hand. Reluctantly, unhooking herself from Marigold’s back, Neela accepted the offered help and gingerly slipped into the tub.

A large splash bloomed around her as she entered, sending out a small tsunami in the aftermath. Waves rolled and smashed against the walls as the mermaid sunk into the surprisingly deep basin, the water reaching to her shoulders and completely submerging the rest of her. Her silver hair pooled around her, shimmering as it was teased by the lapping waves, floating amount chunks of greenery and petals.

It was delightfully warm, something that occurred to her the moment skin and scale touched the steaming water. It soothed like a hot caress, seemingly washing away the aches across her elongated tail. It was still an outlandishly surreal experience, to float and sink inside a substance she had only ever known to be cold. In reality of that, the mermaid was unsure if she would ever truly get used too. Still, despite all this, Neela felt sleepy and surprisingly safe in the tub.

If this was simply the heat, or the herbs’ affects, she could not say for certain.

The water itself smelt florally, though she could not determine as to what it was composed of. It was earthy too, a thick underlying scent that was rather stale hiding somewhere beneath the wonderful aroma. 

Marigold remained where she was, watching the former queen adjust to the new sensation. Her eyes trailed down from her face to her immersed tail, taking into consideration the used bandages. Neela examined her with half lidded eyes, pleasantly comfortable. The hounds scrutinized vigilantly from the door frame, neither willing to come inside.

Even Yesfir, though she stood centrally and present, did not venture any further. It was clear that this was the one place within the home that they were specifically exempted from.

“Gilford,” came Marigold’s voice suddenly and the stallion in question jerked quickly to her side, “can you bring me some scissors please?”

“Of course.” The male nodded, immediately trotting over towards the sink. 

The female turned back to Neela, hand resting softly against the side of the tub, “You will need to swing your tail over the side, Neela. I need to remove the old bandages.”

Gilford was back by her side in a second, scissors in hand, the handle of which seemed to be fashioned from ebony steel. Knight took it with a quiet thank you before turning her attention back to the mermaid. “We will put on new ones once you are ready to leave.”

The former queen nodded and braced herself against the inside walls, urging her tail to sweep up and over the side. She felt it land softly against Marigold’s side and shivered, the air surprisingly colder than what she had remembered. As she looked at the yellow tinged cloth, she was fascinated by the abundant steam that rolled off her body in a steady torrent. It looked like dragon smoke, at least to what she had always envisioned, back when her mother had told her fantastical stories in order to get her to sleep.

Urging it just a little closer, the Chieftain set to work, gingerly tucking the sharp blade under the cloth and cutting it back. Like the time of molting, the cloth seemed to peel and tumbled away. It looked strikingly similar to when the younger merfolk would shed rapidly during the first few years after hatching, their tails developing faster than the rest of them. 

Marigold made a pile to her right; which Gilford took away to dump in a little garbage placed next to the stall. Neither said a word to each other and it was amazing to see them work so well together, with not a sound exchanged between them.

Her scales, royal blue and vibrant, shimmered under the steamy water sheen, the moister only accentuating the beauty of them. But as Neela marveled at her marvelous tail, she took note of the damage that was etched across her body. 

Lacerations, longer then wide, were cleaved over her underbelly and sides, much of the scales around them having been removed so they could properly heal. Her fins, the long membranes that fluttered for communication, were sutured, thick cord of catgut sewn into the fragile looking skin. Much of it had been saved this way. Without any flexing to tear at the strength giving stitches, they were able to flourish while pinned at her sides. The fluke of her tail was in the same state, more catgut weaved into the thicker membrane to help restore it. 

Hopefully to its former glory.

Neela watched as the Chieftain cautiously traced a few of the deeper wounds with her finger, as if measuring the existing damage that would linger long after they had healed. Gilford too had taken notice and had moved closer to inspect; his face twisted into a frown at what he was witnessing. Pity shone clearly on his eyes, yet it could not compete with the hurt that was so plain and raw on Marigold’s face.

Despite their conversation, it was clear that the mare would hold herself accountable for quite some time.

And it broke Neela’s heart.

Steel faced, the equine hybrid turned to the former Merqueen again, hand on her tail, “You may place it back into the water.” She seemed to chew on her next command, her eyes staring into the rippling pool.

“We need to change the one across your side and around your flipper.” She then glanced at Gilford, her voice tight, “Would you mind-?”

He shook his head, stepping closer to the tub with his hoof perched on the rim, “Not at all.”

“He will pick you to make the action easier,” she reasoned before Neela could say a word, her voice kind, “I know it is not very dignified, but until I can make another fin for you, this will have to suffice.”

The mermaid nodded and twisted herself to give the stallion a better angle, floored by the level of concern he was showing to her. Back facing him, she prepared herself. “I’m ready.”

Gently, the stallion braced his own body and leaned forward, dipping his arms into the steaming pool and hooking them under Neela’s armpits. The mermaid flustered slightly as they came to cross at her stomach, only a few inches away from her breasts. 

Immediately, Neela was reminded of the hungry males that would often fling themselves at her out of desperation, her court in a frenzy at the peak of their seasonal rutting. Taking a breath, she urged herself to relax into the muscular arms, this was not a horny merman out for sex, this was a centaur. A centaur, she reminded herself, loyal only to Marigold, whom she trusted enough to allow this kind of contact, all in an effort to help her in her time of need.

The arms, as they tightened and moved to lift her out of the almost soupy water, did not move from their position. They did not reach for her breasts; they did not descend to cup at the section of her body that hid her most private of areas. They stayed still and ready, moving her to sit slightly on the rim of the basin. It was cold, but the steady heat from her still water-logged tail cut the edge, even if only a little.

She could feel his chest against her back and his steady breathing somewhere above her head. Neela could only image her soaked hair was plastered over his tunic and neck, wondering for a moment if this was as uncomfortable for him as it was for her. Regardless of her thoughts, the mermaid’s eyes stayed transfixed on Marigold, whom moved to severe the coiled cloth around her hips. They fell away with a sick wet sound, flopping hard onto the stone floor but ultimately forgotten.

The injury there was considerable, much of her scales having been removed to save the thin stretch of skin underneath. A scab, though ugly and cracked, covered the length of the injury, proving her body had attempted to heal itself. She flinched inwardly with repulsion, the growth looking like the back of a heavily barnacled turtle shell, something that looked most unpleasant against the rest of her. It was alien in its presentation and sensation. Her stomach flipped and Neela looked away, staring at the hounds that continued to observe and listen.

The blond female made a noise through her cheeks, “This is clearly infected.”

Neela felt her heart sink.

“We will need to let the herbs soften the tissue before we can properly remove it. A fresh application of that ointment Maxwell gave us will be necessary.” Came Gilford’s steady voice from above her head, his arms shifting but only to get a better grip.

The centaur leader nodded, the motions pulling Neela’s attention back in as well as the sensation of careful fingers brushing softly against the injury. Her golden browed were pressed tightly together with consideration, a frown permanently etched into her face.

“We cannot allow it to linger as it is.” She confirmed and again, Neela felt the blond male behind her nodded stiffly in agreement.

The Chieftain altered her advance, scissors at the ready, now moving for the thing the mermaid had dreaded most. With feather-light fingers, the mare took a section of cloth and began to cut, the aquatic hybrid inspecting her every move, curious but reluctant. Her heart fumbled with which way to fall, either at her throat or in the pit of her stomach. The fluttering organ could not seem to make up its mind. Neela’s eyes were no better, swiftly shying away before warily rolling back, torn between her desires and the sickening knot that was coiling in her chest.

Gradually, the most devastating of injuries was revealed to her and the mermaid felt her stomach sink back into the basin, her heart and hopes in tow.

Much of the damaged tissue had been cut away in order to prevent infection from diseased tissue, the shape of it completely unnatural. It was rounded and sutured tight in a vain attempt to keep it pretty, most of the muscle that had been located there all removed or eaten away by her own body. It seemed to stop where her wrist would have been located, though given its length and narrowed appearance, it was not exactly evident. The world slowed and the Merqueen took a shaky breath, her lungs barely taking in any air.

Marigold vigilantly moved it from side to side, checking for any infection that might have grown since the doctor’s last visit. She traced her fingers over the sutures, testing them for weakness yet as she moved it, the hybrid felt nothing of her tentative prodding.

“Why don’t I feel any pain?” she wondered out loud, amazed and dumfounded, shocked at the reality of its appearance.

The reality of her situation was setting in again and she felt tears prickling in the corners of her eyes.

Before they could fall, the hybrid shook her head hard, refusing to crumble. Marigold had promised her she would come to a solution, there was no use weeping more tears for nothing. She had done enough crying.

The centaur looked up, the stern façade abruptly blinking away as a heated flush cascaded over her nose. The mare visibly floundered, her eyes darting down before getting a hold of herself and staring Neela in the eye. “While you were unconscious, we give you some medications through fluids we could coax down your throat. But as of late, I have been putting some pain relief in your food.”

Neela blinked and looked down, immediately recognizing what had offset the stone-faced mare.

The white tunic that the female had given her was now translucent, the water rendering the garment useless. It left nothing to the imagination and while the former queen was contented to know Marigold was able to see them, the same could not be said for Gilford. 

Who was still pressed tightly behind her, holding her steady.

Heat, scaling and uncomfortable, blistered down her checks and neck. Neela felt the male centaur grumble in irritation. “You two need to get a room.”

The blond rolled her eyes, “We did have one till someone barged into it,” she paused, looking at him with an expression that could most assuredly kill, “unannounced.”

Muttering darkly, the stallion readjusted the female in his arms and Neela only blushed harder, wishing he would just drop her back into the tub again. “You were taking far too long.”

The mare seemed to notice the mermaid’s discomfort for something of a wicked grin crossed her face, “You do realize Gilford that the tunic will have to be removed to get to the bandages underneath.”

And just like that, he was lowering Neela back in, “And that would be my queue to leave.”

With haste in his stride, limp be damned, the stallion all but sprinted out of the lavatory and closed the door behind him, much to the chagrin of the Direwolves. Yesfir was possibly the most infuriated, her distinct howl could be heard from beyond the door as well as the frantic pattering of heavy paws across stone.

Neela blushed as she crossed her arms over herself, wishing she could just sink into the water and never come out. However, her embarrassment was muffled by the reassuring look Marigold was leveling her. “You do not need to remove it. Most of the wounds there are scrapes at best and have healed very well.”

Neela blinked in confusion, titling her head as her arms gradually unfolded. “Then why did you-?”

“He can be very mothering in his own way.” The centaur explained casually, “and he is very upset by how you came to have such injuries. Roughness aside, Gilford is an honorable and loyal companion, do not let his rough behaviour tell you otherwise.”

“Does he not like me?” she questioned hesitantly, her hands resting against the rim of the basin.

The mare shook her head, her answer absolute. “No. He does not like to be caught off guard and he did not expect to find you still in my chambers.”

The former queen felt herself flushed hotly again, her tail wishing absentmindedly behind her. She could understand that; it was most likely something he had not counted on. “I see.”

“More so,” continued the Chieftain, “Primrose likes to create problems for him and knowing she will be coming here agitates him more than words can describe.”

Attentively, the mare placed a reassuring hand on that of the mermaid, her touch warmer than the moisture that clung to her skin. “If he came off as rude, please forgive him, he really has no ill will towards you. You just happened to catch him at a bad time. I should know, I have worked alongside him for years.”

She laughed softly, “There have been plenty of instances where we have butted heads.”

The former queen felt a smile tug on her lips, moving her palm to catch the offered fingers in her own. “I understand.”

Marigold ran her thumb over the mermaid’s palm with consideration, staring down at it with a focus that made the hybrid shiver. “You can stay here as long as you want.” She offered, “Yesfir will keep an eye on you and I will not be too far away.”

Neela frowned, placing her other hand on the mass of others, her eyes managing to snare that of the chief. “Will you be long?”

The alpha centaur shook her head, “I cannot say for certain, but I will visit between objectives to the best of my abilities.” She promised, reaching out to gently brush some bangs from the merqueen’s eyes.

The water hybrid leaned into the touch, unhappy when fingers slipped away from her won. “You will tell me what happened, won’t you? With Primrose?”

A warm smile beamed down on her, its radiance like that of the sun. “If there is anything to tell, I promise.”

Like before, the centaur’s parting gift was a kiss, her lips touching gently to Neela’s knuckles, only this time, the mermaid mimicked the gesture. Before the hand could slip away, Neela pulled their joined hands to her mouth, pressed an equally soft kiss of her own upon those battle scared knuckles.

The way her lover flushed keenly under the tender token, made her heart swoon.

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And here we go! The five chapter! A lot is going on here and several things need to be taken into consideration. Just in case there is any confusion, Gilford is basically the male version of Marigold (Yellow Diamond) but in this particular case, he is simply another alpha class centaur. In other stories I will write, he will be her sibling twin or otherwise. Again, don’t worry about any spelling mistakes, I will fix them later. Please tell me what you think in the comments below and I hope that this chapter was well worth the wait.  
Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoy! :)


	6. Death has been seen today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Humans are growing bolder in their attempts to wipe her and her people off the face of the earth. If it had not been for the necessity of breeding, she and her kind would have stayed beneath the waves where they belonged. But their eggs need air and sandy beaches, their mothers nestled up top and patient. They need help in protecting themselves in their most vulnerable of states. Neela, queen of her mermaids and mermen, invokes the help of another breed for assistance. They meet for the first time and almost as soon as the sun casts its glow, she is love struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> \- Blue Diamond – Queen Neela  
> \- Yellow Diamond – Chief Marigold, Marigold Knight  
> \- White Diamond – Empress Blanka  
> \- Blue Pearl - Lola  
> \- Yellow Pearl – Eva Tempest  
> \- Holly Blue Agate - Holly  
> \- Yellow Agate – Hildegard and Hiltrude Gisil  
> \- Pink Diamond – Queen Primrose (Might be mentioned or used, not sure yet)
> 
> Courts:  
> \- Blue Diamond’s court – Mermaids and mermen  
> \- Yellow Diamond’s court - Centaurs  
> \- Pink Diamond’s court - Dwarves  
> \- White Diamond’s court – Harpies
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Humans are the enemy  
> \- Mermaids and men can live above water, they come on land to breed and lay their eggs, though courtship is performed underwater and above. They wear sea glass and shells and elegant clothing woven from the hair of beasts.  
> \- In the West, full of mountains and spanning flat lands, live the centaurs. They are known for their fighting prowess and strength. They earn the right to do anything within their tribe and clan through fighting. They are almost always wearing armor and the pelts of their kills.  
> \- To the North, hidden in the mountains are the Harpies, they live secluded from everyone else and believe everyone is inferior to them for they can fly. They covet previous items such as gold and diamonds.  
> \- Blue will fall for Marigold almost instantly. Bellow story I don’t care if you don’t like.  
> \- This will be short however if it is liked I will expand. Also, to that note, Pink Diamond will most likely make an appearance in the second part of this story if I choose to continue it beyond the scope of what this part of the tale describes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, this whole thing is purely for fun.

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Chapter 6  
Death has been seen today

Although the herbal bath was doing wonders for her aching muscles and naked wounds, the loneliness of the situation was starting to creep in on her sensibilities. Very much like, if not akin to, how the awareness of life lost hits those who now have to live with the consequences of their loved one’s passing. 

An understanding of a void that at one time, had been filled with something substantial.

It was a chilling and cruel aftertaste that seemed to numb from within, spreading outward like a disease, touching everything within reach with a devil may care attitude.

Through the thickened haze and splendor of hazy plumes, they ascending and swirling overhead with almost touchable glee, Neela could only stare at the surprisingly cold walls of her enclosure with trepidation. Light streamed in like a heavenly beacon from the pointed skylight, which was left slightly ajar for a natural breeze to roll in. However, from its refreshing presence, its careful caress across the floor below, only seemed to ignite a feeling of restlessness within.

The former Merqueen watched with minute boredom as the chopped plants bounced under the barest form of provocation, the tiny waves she stirred through simply breathing, a storm that ravaged their world. The little whirlpools she could make with a refined finger and a dainty pointed claw, sending them into a haphazard tailspin. They were helpless to her, forgotten things left to the mercy of a sea monster that toyed with them like a cat would a mouse before devouring it whole. 

Neela could only wonder if this, no matter how small, had been what her mother had spoken of when weaving victorious tales of merfolk sending human ships tumbling into the ocean depths. When magic had flowed powerfully through their veins, man and all their vices had dreaded even the shortest of voyages out on open water. They built bigger and better modes of transportation in retaliation, wider girths and longer noses, pointed to pierce through the storms that threatened to capsize them. 

Of course, these adjustments had all been for not, for nothing could falter a merfolk storm.

Idly, Neela pictured the largest of the leaves floating within her pool to be one such glorified vessel and with a rush of anger, hauled the cursed thing to the bottom of the basin. Stamping it down with far more force that necessary, the Merqueen found bitter satisfaction as if promptly disintegrated between her narrow fingers. Yet, as soon as it was there, is was gone, evaporating like the plumes of steam off the water’s rippling surface.

All that power was gone now, nothing but a memory carried over through spoken tales and lurking legends exchanged over a blistering fire.

Nothing more than bedtime sorties for the weak and impressionable.

Neela sighed as she slapped her tail against the side of the basin, satisfied by the waves she made in her agitation. They curled and splashed against the rim, cascading over the edge and onto the floor, a waterfall of vibrant green. The resulting spray was a fine mist of sparkling diamonds tossing into the air like a majestic wing.

Yesfir watched with rapt consideration, massive head slanted with enquiry, her great ears pushed forward, listening and attentive.

The beast had been allowed entry into the lavatory in order to keep a proper eye on the waterlogged mermaid. The rest of the pack was divided accordingly for the day. Half lingered just beyond the closed door, another line of defense against interlopers, whilst the others had taken to shadowing the Chieftain for her daily activities.

Sitting pretty on her haunches, back pressed to the very side of the basin, the Direwolf as white as freshly fallen snow, stood stock still and ready. Gaze permanently trained on the door, she eagerly awaited either confrontation with her newly acquired quarry, or the return of her master.

At this close proximity to the beast, that weighted nearly as much as her, Neela found delight in investigating the beast with her fingers, encouraged when Yesfir did nothing to alter her advances. With nothing else to do but poke and prod at her wounds, the canine was an excellent from of distraction. More so, this titan of a dog had single-handedly saved her life that day on the beach and embellishing full-hearted ear rubs and neck scratches seemed to the mermaid the least she could offer her heroine. 

If not for the loyal wolf’s patrol, the aquatic hybrid had no difficultly believing she would have died there alone on that white shored beach. Her only company, the only souls aware of her passing, would have been the circling gulls as they closed in, ready to peck out her eyes and tongue. It was anyone’s guess how long she could have rotted their, a pitiful corpse strewn cross milky sand, before another sentient species would have spotted her.

Frankly, it made Neela shiver with more than just repulsion.

The dog had whimpered with appreciation as her nails found just the right spot under a thick heavy collar, raking the itchy skin with vigor. Yesfir would lean into her touch, encouraging the action, undeterred by how the mermaid’s affection left her coat wet and damp. Her tongue lolled out, emerald eyes gleaming within the haze of the room and in this moment Neela was struck but how wrong she was of this creature.

All her court had ever known about these intimidating hounds were that they were fierce and dangerous, swarming unsuspecting prey in a horde of ravenous fangs and claws. 

Teeth and muscle.

Originally, her mother had said that they were uncapable of understanding anything but the hunt, that a wolf was always hungry and fought a futile battle against starvation every second of every day. They knew nothing of satisfaction and the only thing remotely close to such a sensation was the flicker of promise just before a finishing blow. When their jaws clamped shut over the bared throat of their latest victim, the resulting splashing of blood down the backs of their needy throats a sweet kiss of delight in a world of pain and hunger. 

There was even whispers that they took glee in bleeding their victims dry, watching them stumble and trip over uncoordinated feet in some stupid attempt to flee. They would relentlessly stalk them, wicked grin twisting their muzzles, showing all their teeth as they trotted contently after.

It was the false sense of hope in their prey’s eyes, thinking they had gotten away, that filled their empty hearts with unfathomable joy. That gave them the reason to live.

Although Neela had yet to see them hunt, to her, these cautionary tales had all been exaggerated nonsense. Tales spoken and written if only to scare young merfolk into staying away from the grasslands that rimmed their beaches. Naturally, Neela had been terrified of the animals has they had slithered down the side of that hill, flanking Marigold and the Gisil twins like ominous shadows.

Now of course, her understanding of them had changed the moment she had realized that they did not thrive off of fear.

They thrived off love and affection.

Devoid of her gleaming armour, eager fingers stroked ridged ears before moving towards heavy jowls and the most interesting adaptation of this land-based creature, her fangs. Almost instinctively, those bone crushing jaws opened wide, the mandible hanging open for display, inviting Neela to see the destruction she could offer to those deemed unworthy.

Or simply not labeled as pack.

Although the aquatic hybrid had no reason to believe this hound would turn her teeth on her, a small shudder of fear raced up her spine nonetheless, the water turning suddenly cold. Still ever curious, her nimble fingers traced the killing fangs with consideration, surprised that the hound did nothing to stop her or rather seemed eager for her investigation.

The Merqueen however suddenly realized that it was not much of a surprise at all. She had seen Marigold investigate the dog’s teeth several times before, pulling the tongue this way and that, scoping out the palate and tonsils before scrutinizing each tooth. The mare had told her it was out of necessity, that if anything was amiss with their fangs, it usually meant that the canine was ill or the health was in decline. 

A dog that could not bite or eat, Marigold had told her, was a dog destined for death.

This was most likely the reason for her complete submission towards those delicate fingers slipping under those heavy jowls and feeling their way across her fangs. Yesfir must have assumed it was another check up and nothing more.

From this gapping trap of knives, Neela counted forty-four teeth in all, each one the width of her thumb in thickness. The Merqueen noted that the main fangs, which were noticeably thicker, were serrated on both sides. These impressive canines would protrude from both the maxillary and mandibular arches even when the jaws were clamped tightly shut. The other teeth, those that would be hidden when the wolf would shut her jaws together, were serrated on only one side. Another fascinating point of interest, were the two small fangs that were hidden directly behind the main sabers of her top jaw. Which, in a grand total, would bring the count of teeth within this monster’s jaw up to forty-six. 

Hidden in their shadow, not at all visible unless you were unfortunate enough to be within the mouth of the beast, were thicker and seemed dulled in comparison to the others. They also, curled in at a very steep angle compared to their neighbours. Neela could only wonder, as she stroked them carefully with her claws, if they were designed to help latch on to prey. To keep them locked onto the neck of their intended victim, through hooking deeper into the flesh and muscle, even as they shook and bucked in panic. Or, if perhaps, given their thickness and dulled sides, were merely intended to give strength to the bite. To add more injury to any action of violence and consequently, more blood loss.

Perhaps there had been some truth to her mother’s stories after all.

She would have to see them hunt to be sure.

The Direwolf breathed heavily through her nose as Neela opened the gapping jaws further, momentarily intrigued by the tongue, which wagged and slobbered from side to side, brushing fortified fangs. Though predominately pink, what was curious about it, beside length and size, was that the middle was winged purple, with a course scale like substance at the far back. It was almost bubbly and hard but instincts told her not to reach that far back. The dog had been patient and accepting, investigating that far down the throat might hold a negative consequence.

Neela would have to ask Marigold what its purpose was for the canine when the centaur returned.

This bore induced investigation into the very mouth of an animal that held no equal or rival had taken place hours ago and although the Direwolf had not moved from her position, Neela still felt anxiously restive. It had provided her with some level of entertainment, if only to soften seemingly bottomless curiosity, but it had long since faded and now, she was left to toy with the floating plants and leaves within her little bath.

Periodically, she would stroke Yesfir’s fur, mesmerized how fast it dried to her drenched touch.

The only other creature that came to check on her was Eva, the little fawn knocking politely on the door, announcing her presence, before ambling inside. Her arrival was punctual, every hour, on the hour, though the cause for her return would differ each time. 

On occasion, she would announce the time of day and what was currently happening with their Chieftain, more specifically, what the golden mare was promptly addressing at this established time. 

Neela enjoyed this for it gave her some understanding of what was transpiring beyond her enclosure, how the world was moving steadily forward without her in it. The fawn would also assist in changing the water, dutifully replacing it after it had gone unpleasantly cold during the time the Merqueen had sat and vegetated within. 

Although having spent much of her lifespan within the cold unforgiving clutches of sea water, Neela found she had grown aggressively attached to the smoldering water, its heated caress a merciful kiss against her injuries but also her skin. She found herself eagerly waiting its return when her little pool was nothing more than a memory. 

It almost worried her the bubbling enmity that was festering within when the little fawn was taking her time in replenishing her environment. The sudden coldness of the room, having not been apparent to her before, was chilling her sides and scales unpleasantly. It felt like ice was cascading down her back and through her veins, uncomfortable as it was unforgiving. The worst however, was how it left her wounds in the absence of the water’s gentle caress. How they would burn with an icy fire that nipped and chilled but seared all at the same time. 

After refilling it and reapplying another sack full of herbs and remedies into the steaming bath, Eva would leave, but not before bowing politely to her person. The shutting of the door would announce her retreat back into the world outside and Yesfir would promptly return to her designated spot at Neela’s side, ready, watchful and waiting.

This had been the routine for several hours now, not one saying anything to the other beyond mere pleasantries.

Part of this reason was because Neela had not a clue as to what to say. The little fawn reminded her too much of Lola and it stung painfully.

This time however, Eva revealed herself with a platter of food, as well as what looked to be a vibrant green, sticky paste piled into a small wooden cup. As the door swung closed behind her, Neela could see the other hounds watching with interest, sniffing and tasting the air.

Yesfir barked at her entry but made no move towards her, though Neela noticed the way her heavy jowls twitched and her nose heaved mighty and hurried breaths into her lungs. When she was close enough to reach out and touch, the wolf leaned expectantly closer, her nose flaring under the delicious aromas of what was being offered. 

The action made the former queen smile.

The little creature, almost the size of the Direwolf’s skull, batted the albino creature away with an air of confidence that seemed to grandiose for something her size. Even more shocking was the beast listened, sulking against the side of the basin with a whine of discontentment, her marbled tongue curling tightly against those concealing jowls. If the beast had no concept of order or rule, Neela had no qualms believing that one bite is all it would take to swallow the tiny creature whole.

And not chew.

With a polite cough between thinned lips, her posture straight and elegant, Eva set the plate down on the edge of the basin. The thickened side of the structure easily accounted for the tray, ensuring it would not promptly flip over. On it was slivers of cooked meat, notably fish to her delight, crackers, cheese and some freshly cut vegetables.

The petite thing adjusted herself and clasped her arms behind her back, a posture that she most likely adopted from Marigold.

Heels touching and nose in the air, she spoke like the truly dignified creature she was, “This is your lunch for today. The medication is to help with the infection.”

Neela smiled at her, “Thank you. Will Marigold be stopping by?”

The creature did not even blink, as if she had expected such a question. Which was just as well, Neela did ask it at every opportunity that showed up in her favour. Which was every time the little fawn ventured into the room. 

“The Chieftain is very busy. I doubt she will be able to make time.”

The Merqueen looked down at her hands, still submerged within the fresh and hot waters below, even through its tinged green surface, she could make out the steely glint of her talons. It was the very same answer that greeted her every time she asked. Never changing, not even flicking slightly in alteration. 

The tone in which it was delivered also remained fixed and unbendable.

This time however, she could sense the little creature was getting annoyed in her constant prying.

“I see.”

Due to Primrose making a very much unscheduled appearance, any chance the mare had had of slipping away and checking on her was small, and often, as the case seemed, non-existent. The Merqueen could hardly blame her. The radiant female was their esteemed leader, it was her job to be involved and constant within their lives, especially when it concerned outsiders coming into their territory, friends or not. The sudden involvement of a possible mate did not deter the fact that Marigold still, at the end of the day, had duties to uphold.

She was their Chieftain and it seemed that unlike the rule expected of a Merqueen, this meant there was much for her to do. In comparison, the life of a Merqueen was lackadaisical, often her subordinates, such as Holly, delegating much of the assignments to be carried out.

The thought of her made the aquatic hybrid’s heart ache.

“If you need anything, have Yesfir send for me.” The little creature intoned, spinning quickly on a well trimmed and polished hoof before all but marching towards the door. 

Her little tail was held high and proud, showing off the snow-white underside of the fluffy appendage.

Not wanting her to leave just yet, thankful for the company, no matter how small, Neela pushed herself up against the side of the tub, hands on the rim. Careful not to knock over the tray, she latched her good flipper on the edge of the tub, the little hook gripping the stone. 

“Has there been any news concerning Lola and Holly?”

She was curious of course, desperate to know if her most loyal of subjects had survived the dangerous uprising that had taken place within her own court. She thought of them every second her brain allowed itself to wander to them, to approach the door with uncertain yet convicted hands, embracing the worry, the sadness but most of all, the guilt that had been stirred in the aftermath.

Within these times of wallowing, floundering in the sadness of their absence, another powerful emotion would creep in, driven to hunger by the sweet taste of her vulnerable state.

Self-pity. 

But it was shadowed closely by another more powerful emotion, self-hatred.

If she had just kept her hands to herself, to endure the restricted life that was expected of her, both Lola and Holly would be alive. 

They would be with her. 

She would have Lola still pressed against her tail, gradually picking tried scales from her body with content enthusiasm, whilst Holly bit her ear off again for neglecting something prudent to her rule. Neela longed for these treasured moments of peace and normalcy, for the simplicity that was the routine of her rule before her selfish, lust driven, recklessness.

While yes, she had gotten what she wanted and was more than content to have the glorious mare as her lover, Neela would be more at ease if only to know that the two had been speared. They would do well without her anyway, she knew this. Holly was a treasured diplomate and historian within the merfolk ranks and Lola was a special creature capable of magic. The court would be foolish, if not stupid, to exile the two out of the swarm. However, there was that underlying doubt that ate at her, like a bacterial injection below the skin, not visible but present, destroying everything it touched, slowly and painfully.

On the other hand, and possibly far more selfishly motivated, Neela wanted the little creature to stay, even if only a few moments more. 

The novelty of having a new face, in a matter of speaking, was a fantastic change from the sweltering boredom that festered within the enclosure. It served as a breath of fresh air, more so than the one escaping through the open skylight above could ever muster. More to the point, Eva was very much like Lola, if only in their conviction to please their rulers by any means possible. Neela missed having a little companion close to her side everywhere she went, a shadow to occupy her own.

The lack of this little extension left a greedy, gapping hole within her own heart.

Eva turned slowly to face her and seemed, for a distinct moment, to be weighting out her options. She did this behind a screwed face of contemplation, but what gave her away was the absentminded fidgeting from one hoof to the other. A frown pulled at her lips and she began to play with her fingers, tail flickering in unease, her ears dropping. The uncertainty of the action made Neela shiver, for the worry on her face did not suit the creature, not one bit. All at once, the mermaid missed the assured creature that had stepped into the room only a few seconds ago.

She wished she had not said anything.

Thoughtlessly, she had clawed open old wounds the little fawn seemed to be gently nursing closed. Lola had liked the little fawn and was eager to not only interact with her, but speak with her, something the normal shy and voiceless sprite would avoid at all costs. She spoke with emotion and excitement when in the presence of this fawn and Eva in return would turn humble and waiting, eager in her own right to hear what this ocean dweller had to say.

Eva was mourning the loss of a new friend, someone so unlike the normal common folk she saw on a daily basis. Due to Neela’s actions, this new friend and companion was gone and with a wave of gut-wrenching dread, the mermaid wondered if the fawn secretly hated her for her choice.

Finally, with eyes cast fallen, the fawn shook her tiny skull. “Sadly no, your highness, we have yet to find anything.”

Neela felt her heart sag painfully within her ribcage, dismayed not only by the fawn’s answer but by the misery that was so blatantly expressed across her dazzling eyes. Letting her hands slid meekly back into the warmed waters below, the Merqueen found she could not meet the creature’s gaze.

Yesfir could only watch the interaction with sharpened eyes, as if she understood.

Shame scorched her, from crown to tail. “I see.”

All at once, however, the fawn seemed to come back to herself and stomped her foot hard on the floor, the action causing Neela to look up. Puffing out her chest, hands pinned at her sides, she stared at the mermaid with a conviction of a warrior ready to take the life of another. Straight backed and immovable, her face setting into a look of promised victory, brows furrowing over glinting eyes. 

The fervour was almost jarring. “We are going to find them.” She vowed, her jaw setting at an angle, “One way or another.”

The fawn pawed at the floor again, determination squaring her shoulders and the confidence of her claim made the mermaid’s heart leap with the shiest form of relief. The Direwolf wagged her tail ever so slightly, the corners of her jowls fluttering in what looked like a muffled attempted at a bark.

With another polite salute, the little creature disappeared behind the door, leaving it only slightly ajar and from this rift between worlds, the warm light of lit candles bleed in. Shadows would move across the offered light at the disruption, moving to sniff and touch the fawn as she trotted away. They barked and whimpered but soon settled, the need for patrol quieting their sudden excitement.

However, despite the gentle kiss of hope that had been ghosting over her heart, the organ was promptly hit with another kind of emotion. It flagged and dropped like a stone, taking all the blessed hope with it, now festering hotly in her stomach acids. The gravity of the fawn’s statement was finally starting to take root, the dual meaning of her claim, no matter how gun-hoe and assured, was laced with saccharine tasting poison.

Worst of all, it seemed to circle her previous line of thought, peeling back towards something she had touched briefly.

Neela wished with every fiber of her being that the bodies they found would be alive. 

That they would wash up on shore, unfazed and woundless, simply over-zealous to be at her side again. Yet by that same token, if they were in fact gone, their souls having left this cruel world in exchange for something better, she prayed they were never found. Venal as it might seem, the Merqueen could not bare the thought of looking upon the mangled corpses of her once dearest friends. The mere thought of seeing them within stages of rot, gulls having long plucked out their eyes and their stomachs ripped bare and gapping by other wild-life, made her convulse.

Bile rushed to greet the backs of her molars and Yesfir looked on with surprise as the queen fought the urge to heave.

Neela would rather life in complete ignorance of their demise, if only so she would not dream of their rotting corpses floating silently, lifelessly, within the ocean depths. If only so she would not see them rising up from the water’s edge to stagger, bloated and puss ridden, across the shore and grassland to her bedside. If only so they would not whisper, mouths foul and decayed, how much they hated her for her selfish choice.

If only so she would not be driven mad by the knowledge that she had truly been the reason behind their sudden end.

All because she could not keep her thoughts in check and hands to herself.

When Marigold had promised to find them, to comb the crescent cove, day after day, joy and rapture flowed powerfully through her veins at extraordinary velocities. All at once she was content, assured that this glorious, steadfast mare would find her companions and bring them back to her. But now, given time to think, this boredom and isolation letting her mind wander where is scarcely would ever tread, the mermaid was unsteady with the idea. The very notion had her reeling with the backlash of what the statement truly implied, what it could imply.

What is would imply.

All at once, Neela felt unworthy of Marigold regard and devotion. 

Undeserving. 

How could such a brave and noble creature want a disgusting waste of space such as herself? No court to her name, ragged and torn, bloody and broken? But worst of all, the thing that brought her back to tears within a flicker of a heartbeat was the knowledge that she, a former ruler, would rather keep her blissful world unsullied by fact, at the cost of her friends’ lives. 

Her heart sank lower to the point where it pulled other things down with it, tendons and muscles and tissues near tearing under the strain. Some however, were beyond physical and to that degree, the Merqueen could recognize them for what they were. Her pride was the first to crumb to dust, not even a husk of itself and her own confidence, butchered and laid bare for all to see.

Trembling hands moved to cup her face, attempting to block out the blurring light that was blotching across watering vision. She shivered in her own touch, the water scorching her alive and yet not hot enough. The Direwolf whimpered and turned to face her, standing tall on her four paws. The canine was confused and sniffed the air around the mermaid, looking for new injury and was driven to anxiety when finding none.

Without warning, behind the shield of her hands, Neela could see her companions rolling helplessly in the undertow. Her mind’s eye merciless in its depiction of how they would have withered away, different scenarios for their fate after death tripping her sensibilities.

She sobbed loudly under the sensations of her torment but was unaware. She was not even cognizant that Yesfir had leaned in closer, her face gentle, curious.

Neela could just see the decomposing flesh slipping off and away like stretches of cloth under the unrelenting force of both the ocean and the animals that lived there. Small fish would swim out from in between their ribs, making a home within the cavity that had once held their hearts and other precious organs. She could imagine monstrous sea serpents coiling almost lovingly around their carcasses, grinning with a mouth full of teeth as they moved to swallow them whole. She could imagine foul, dirty humans pulling them up in their nets, marveling at the bones and breaking them off of what remained.

Trophies in the name of warding off evil.

Another loud sob broke from her, shoulders shaking with such force, the water around her rippled and buckled under the vibrations. Her heart wanted to explode, numb as it was by the realization that she had avoided for so long. It wanted to purge from her body, if only to boil itself alive in the waters below.

It wanted the dog to eat it.

It wanted to hang itself.

The smiling faces of her friends flashed across her vision and she choked again, watching as they eroded away like stone to the sea-salt winds.

It would break her.

Powerlessly, she curled lower into the basin, all but her head submerged, tail coiling outward and around herself. A twinge of pain sparked through her but Neela could not find it in herself to care, wanting nothing more then to contort into a ball and die. Her flipper joined to embrace, unlatching from the basin and draping over the opposing hip like a cover.

Ultimately, the mermaid was unsure if she could recover, if only because of one solid, undeniable fact.

Her face was soaking, the smell of salt coating her nostrils, dripping down into her mouth till that was all she could taste.

It would be her fault.

Her egotistic actions, had led to their avoidable demise.

A sharp snivel stopped her sobs short, the sound pinched and shrill. It was desperate, much like herself and the mutual sadness that was expressed within the tone caused her to pause. It reflected her own and it made her heart flutter.

Peeling her hands from her face, Neela was surprised to see a set of enormous green eyes observing her with touchable concern, sparkling like emeralds in the muted light. Against the backdrop of her pristine white fur, Yesfir looked eternal, a ghost of snow, a hunter of evil, her eyes holding a wisdom that seemed unfit against the body of a monster.

But she was not a monster. She was a creature who had to survive in order to live and killed only to secure her place within the mortal coil.

She was not the devil; she did not prey on the innocent.

She was a wolf who was blood bond to protect her pack.

Yesfir considered Neela to be one of her pack.

Marigold had told her so.

The idea made the mermaid’s heart hiccup again.

The Direwolf blinked expectantly at her, ears swivelling as she sniffed carefully at her quarry, the deep breaths labouring her sides in a heavy movement. Neela watched as those ears folded back, making the beast look nearly as meek and pathetic as she felt. Those eyes glistened, as if they too wanted to shed tears, as if they too understood the pain that was harbouring like an arrow wound to the heart.

It made the Merqueen cough out another dry sob.

The wolf whinged lowly and brushed a cold nose under one of her eyes, a tongue caressing her cheek in something that was both apologetic and considerate. Neela wept softly and reached for the beast, nearly folding herself over the rim of the basin to wrap her arms around this blessed creature. 

Thankfully, the Direwolf rose to meet her, great paws bracing on the lip of the tub to better accommodate the Merqueen and her current disposition. The aquatic hybrid quietly bawled into the abundant mane of the beast, stroking the fur as she buried all she could into its touch. The smell of dog was obviously unmistakable, but the smell of wood, pine needles and leather from her collar was more comforting then Neela could ever realize. The Direwolf was warm, a blanket of comfort against her quivering body, eager to sooth her woes away.

Yesfir rumbled softly, licking her shoulder in something akin to a regretful kiss before nuzzling the underside of her jaw against the back of the Merqueen’s skull. The rumbles continued, unrelenting as they were steady. 

It was a heartening gesture and it threatened to make Neela’s heart burst under the waves of benevolence that were radiating off this magnificent beast. If this did not prove why Marigold favoured this wolf out of all the others, Neela was unsure what would. If this considerate creature did not prove her court’s legends wrong about the true behaviour of a Direwolf, she did not know what would.

They stayed like that for minutes, Yesfir adamantly standing tall and strong for the newest member of her pack. Not one muscle moved, she would remain as long as was necessary and only her need to breathe alerted the former queen that any of what had transpired had in fact happened at all. Soon, her tremors died down to nothing but slight shakes and her tears had spent themselves. The white noise of panic and shame that had suffocated her world, slithered quietly away, until not a scrap of its presence remained.

It was only after a long-winded sigh exhaled from her lips did the Direwolf move away, sitting pretty and intimidating on her haunches. Her expression made the Merqueen giggle hoarsely, the twisting of her features seeming to be asking if she felt better. When the mermaid smiled ever so slightly under the gentle scrutiny, that fluffy tail wagged once behind her with pleasure. 

The white hound licked the mermaid’s face for good measure however, as if to be doubly sure, removing all traces of tears with a careful caution she could have reserved strictly for pups.

Dimly, as that velvety tongue swiped at the bags of her eyes, Neela wondered if this magnificent creature had in fact had puppies to call her own. If she had, the Merqueen was suddenly desperate with the need to know of them, to have them, to spoil them and raise them as if her own.

If only to help this intelligent beast in some way.

The aquatic hybrid could have sworn the hound was giving her another look over, those sparkling orbs of green looking for any sign of sadness, eager to provide more remedy for the injury if needed. Neela could only laugh at the animal and reached forward to scratch behind her ears. Her fears were forgotten, now consumed with the kindness of a monster that was no supposedly not capable of something so remotely intimate. 

The Direwolf growled deeply and leaned into the touch, those eyes rolling back in gratification and she scooted closer, her head softly bracing against the edge of the tub. Softly, Neela allowed her fingers to trace over the deep scars over the canine’s left eye, again, mystified by how she had acquired them and what had done the damage.

Still, in the aftermath of her plight, she found herself much too tired to dwell on that or anything else, her heart could not take it.

There would be time to worry of the fate of her companions and if at the end of the day, they were not found then Neela promised herself she would not forget the sacrifices done, so that she could be here.

Selfish or not, the least she could do was force herself to remember what had been lost to get to where she was.

Pulling her hands away, the Merqueen moved to the plate of food, pulling a nice sized chuck of salmon from the others and offering it to the animal that had stood by her without hesitation nor scrutiny. 

The wolf cried with happiness, carefully moving her jowls around lethal teeth and plucking the offering from dainty fingers. The mermaid barely felt the fangs, the beast gentle and careful to not harm the newest addition to her pack. Once scooped into her mouth however, that elongated tongue helping the action, it was hurriedly swallowed, passing teeth without any consideration.

The Merqueen blinked and rubbed her eyes softly, to remove the last bit of tears from her eyes. Or perhaps it was saliva. It really did not matter.

“Did you even taste it?”

The canine just licked her lips and wagged her tail, its motion almost a blur behind her body. Keen eyes looked expectantly from Neela’s face to the plate and then back again. A long whine and then a lick across her check had the mermaid in stitches, swooping the beautiful beast into another hug, which Yesfir accepted with an ecstatic whine and quiet bark.

The former Merqueen shared her food with the monster of a dog, offering one morsel to herself before quickly extending the next scrap to the Direwolf. Every bite was considerate and calculated, the dog doing everything in her power to not bite the hand that fed her. The process repeated till not a crumb was left and even at that, she let the wolf lick the plate clean. The Merqueen laughed as she struggled to hold the plate steady, the massive tongue pushing and pulling as it scooped across the surface, hungry and searching for anything, a trace left behind.

It glistened as the mermaid set it back up top the balanced tray, reflecting the light in a dazzling display that almost was clear enough to see her reflection.

Obediently, Neela moved to take her medication, scooping the thick bumpy paste onto her fingers and into her mouth. Her stomach turned slightly under the bitter taste but she forced it down, chewing it with a sour expression before muscling it down her throat. Once down, she openly shivered in disgust and shuddered, Yesfir watching with notable curiosity. 

She considered in the moment, that perhaps, it would have been wise to eat that first.

Moving the tray at the opposite end of the basin, Neela could feel her eyes dropping with the urge to sleep, a sudden yawn expanding within the core of her chest, snaking its way up into her throat. Be it from the medication or from the exhausting breakdown, the hybrid could not say for certain but was nonetheless contented by the need for it. If she was honest, her body was heavy to her, muscles sore and tail heavy. The loll of the warm water and its herb scent was soothing and pulling, a siren’s song to the weak. 

If Marigold was going to stop by later, a nap would only do her some good. It would also help her recover from the tempest of tears that had cascaded down her face only moments before. It hurt Marigold when she knew her lover to be crying and the last thing Neela wanted was for the mare to think it was her fault.

Smiling, she brushed her fingers under the Direwolf’s jaw, talons moving to scratch under her chin, “I’m going to have a nap, okay?”

The beast blinked at her and sniffed; the action adorable as it was profound.

How had she not noticed this level of emotion on this hound’s face before?

Simple, she had not been actively looking for it.

Using her other hand to smooth back the ears, Neela held the beast’s muzzle in her hands, “You should sleep too.”

Yesfir looked appalled, as if sleeping on the job was remotely in the question. Miffed, she looked away, a short gruff sound making it way from the very pit of her throat. The mermaid laughed all the same, stroking the fur around that sizable neck. “Okay, I’ll sleep and you stand watch.”

This seemed to be a more desirable idea to the dog for she barked and spun around, hastily moving to sit as she had before, back pressed against the tub, straight and proud. Like a statue. Eyes once again trained on the door.

The Merqueen stroked those pointed ears one last time before submerging and flattening herself against the bottom of the basin. Above, the petals and leaves floated and twirled over her head, almost as if they were twinkling. Warmer at the bottom, Neela nestled into the sleek belly of the tub, feeling her gills move to flare and work at her sides, under Marigold’s shirt. Within seconds, under the heat and water, aware that a great protective hound guarded her with a vicious yet gentle bite, sleep quickly found her.

The sound of someone speaking, though it was greatly gagged by the water, stirred the Merqueen from her dreamless, yet peaceful slumber. Blinking away the sleep, gills flaring as she took a deep lungful of water, she moved her feathering silver locks out of her face. They drifted elegantly around her skull, muting the rays of light that were steadily drilling into the murky depths of her new aquatic home. The feel of the stone remained her where she was, sunk at the bottom of a small pool within a Chieftain centaur’s home.

The sensation of relief, knowing she was no where near the ocean, was immediately overshadowed by how cold the water was to her body. Neela shivered and embraced herself, irritated that her smoldering bed had turned so chilly. However, it alerted her that some time had passed since she had decided to take a nap at the bottom of the tub. At least a few hours given that the water of her little pond was like ice.

Soon, Eva would be back to change it and reapply the necessary herbs and medicine to her little lake. Most likely, she had seen the queen was sleeping and choose to let her be for a moment longer.

The voice spoke again and this time she could hear Yesfir shifting around beyond her basin walls. Most likely it was Eva and Neela was eager to have her frozen pond drained and filled again. Yet the sound of her gait seemed to imply anxiety, impatience, these things that were not a common occurrence with one such as Yesfir.

Shifting around in preparation to breech the surface, good flipper flattened and coiled in readiness to spring, she stopped the motion as a shadow suddenly reached overhead. It was a silhouette of a hand, extending towards the water to dip inside and as the mermaid observed the palm, she noted it much too small to be that belonging to the fawn. 

Excited, the aquatic hybrid pushed herself up, only slightly, just so she could reach the hand that had broken passed the surface. She purred with delight, leaning full heartedly into the touch, expecting it to be none other than Marigold. Her heart thrummed under the idea that her lover had finally returned, eager to be within the majestic mare’s presence, if only to brush her body over hers. 

To finish what they had started this morning.

That was of course, till the skin of the offered hand touched her own, tentative fingers ghosting carefully over her cheek.

Neela froze, her talons scratching against the underbelly of the basin, fear setting down within her core like a heavy stone. Her scales shivered with an unsettling pricking that swept across her body, her heart suddenly lunging into her throat.

The hand was much too small and soft to be that of Marigold’s. But it still was far too large to be Eva’s.

With the hand submerged, she could see what the arm was attached too and all that came into her vision was something large, furry and pink. Although she had yet to meet all the centaurs of Marigold’s tribe, not one of her loyal elites had such a colour engrained in their hair.

This was not an elite guard.

This was an intruder.

Her heart thundered in her skull, a new realization screaming across her subconscious.

Where was Yesfir?

What had happened to Yesfir?!

All at once Neela could see a rotting carcase of white fur and a fangless mouth across a bleached sandy shore, maggots and flies buzzing around empty sockets. Her heart skipped a beat as it choked, tears threatening to prickle at her eyes, promising to fall. However, it was immediately crushed by something far more powerful. 

Anger.

Ferocity, unlike anything she had ever experienced before, surged within her, nudging something she had long since forgotten existed into being.

In a panic, pain be damned, Neela breached the water’s surface with a frightening snarl, water blooming around her body, talons and teeth ready to sink into anything that moved. A terrified shriek answered her vicious call as Neela scrabbled to balance herself on the edge of the basin, the intruder stumbling away in shock.

Her anger was taken up a notch as she took a second to look it over, her flipper latching heavily on the edge. A seething sensation covered her back as if covered in a blanket, the hooks of something raw piercing into her mind.

It looked human. 

A human had found its way in.

Where was Yesfir?!

Her heart skidded over a beat, a stone of anguish striking her skull.

Where was Marigold?!

Flaring her fins far and wide, uncaring if they snapped, Neela hissed and spat at the interloper, saliva dripping off her bottom lip in thick strands. Horrified, the human hastily backpedaled away, watching as it tripped and tumbled backward in its futile attempt to put distance between it and her. The former queen could feel her gills heaving under the strain of her fury, her tail providing stability by bracing against the bottom of the tub.

It was small, the mermaid concluded, a red smear overtaking her vison, heart hammering wildly in her ears. Something she could overtake without a second thought. It was nothing but a gaggle of thin, wiry limbs. 

She would break this creature’s bones as if they were made of glass. 

She had done so before with the young, drunk, fools that had wandered away from the safety of their villages and down to her beach.

She would do so again.

They would splinter in her mouth as she tore it open, alive and breathing.

Gasping and begging for mercy.

Frantic hoof beats pounded towards the door and forcefully kicked it open, before she could spring forward. Door almost being knocked clean off its hinges, Marigold came bursting inside the room as if hell’s fire was nipping at her heels. And at her side, panting and snarling, was Yesfir.

“Wait, Neela!” the mare was at her side in a heartbeat, her expression fraught with worry and it made Neela pause and shudder under the rawness of it.

She had never seen this level of worry on Marigold before.

The Merqueen quickly decided she did not like it.

Quickly, the mare looked her over, gentle hands analyzing the damage and promptly frowned. Her fins had not torn themselves apart but had clearly aggravated the stitches. She paused for but a second before those slender hands changed tactics, desperately trying to per sway the water hybrid back into the tub. 

It took a few seconds for Neela to convince her talons and hook to let go, to will away the red that had been smudged across her vision. But reluctance and provoked wrath was scarcely easily reigned and she fought back, shaking her had and glaring spitefully at the filthy human in her mist.

The mermaid glanced back and forth between the disgruntled looking human sprawled out across the floor and the golden eyes of her lover, confused and frustrated. Betrayal curled ugly had heavy in the pit of her stomach, its poison leeching into other parts of her. 

Why was Marigold protecting a disgusting human? A creature, so greed driven and hungry, that it alone was responsible for bringing most of the mythical beast population to the brink of extinction.

Slapping her tail hard against the sides of the basin, she shrugged off the tender touches of the mare with a fang bared snarl and tightened her hold on the edge. Yesfir, whom had moved to her side, licked her lips nervous at the display.

“Marigold!” she hissed, flaring out her fins and the terror that flashed over the human’s eyes gave her such a delight, “What is that human doing here?”

The pink haired creature gasped in shock before snarling herself, offended at the insult. “Hey! That’s not very nice! I’m not a human!”

Soothing hands attempted to hold the tittering mermaid steady, afraid she would topple over and hurt herself further.

“That is Primrose.” Replied Marigold softly, one of her hands grasping an arm whilst the other settled in the small of Neela’s back.

Neela blinked, all her fury and spite slipping clean out of her and tumbling pathetically across the floor in the flicker of a heartbeat. She looked back at the little human shaped creature with dumfounded surprise, her mind as blank as a canvas. The red that marred her vision was gone and the deafening ring of anger seemed to be silent. 

Working her tongue to form words and not snarls, she tested the name of her tongue. “Primrose?”

No longer held captive by the primal urge to tear the human’s throat out, Neela was able to see what she had so brazenly missed before. Although yes, human in shape, this creature lacked certain characteristics to be apart of such a species.

The thing before her only stood a little over three feet tall and was clearly female, sporting tiny breasts that were made all the more prominent by the tightly strung black corset around her torso. Tiny even by the queen’s standards, the creature looked strangely out of place within such a large standing room. Everything from the tub to the toilet would have been much too large for her to even attempt to utilize.

All at once she remembered their earlier conversation, about the dwarves from Amaryllis and how their queen was making an unexpected visit to the centaur tribe for reasons only known to her.

The Merqueen blinked again and shook her head wildly, wet hair flying chaotically around her face, sending droplets of spray in all directions. Marigold barely flinched as water splattered over her cheeks and chin, moving instead to manually unlatch the mermaid’s claws from the basin.

Neela frowned as she observed the dwarf again, allowing Marigold to carefully ease her back into the tub and way from danger. To help her, unable to take her eyes away from the creature that was now standing up and off the floor, Neela urged her only remaining hook to unlatch from the edge.

The miniature body before her was narrow, willow-like, not at all what she had been expecting. 

They were supposedly burly, even the opposite sex of the species rippled with extra muscle, to help them mine and traverse the cold, rocky underbelly of their caves and catacombs. These sub-terrain labyrinths, illuminated only by oil lamps and flickering candle light, were what they lovingly called home. Merfolk had also believed that due to this extended and preferred stay under soil and rock, they shied away from any encounter from the outside world. More notably, any contact with the sun. 

But of course, and Neela was quick to scold herself, much of what she had believed to be true when in consideration of other mythical species had been grievously exaggerated. 

Perhaps this was no different then the lies they had believed when considering dragons or Direwolves? Perhaps not all dwarves were born stocky and compact.

Brows furrowing with consideration, the hybrid of water turned her attention to the one aspect that seemed to demand attention, the dwarf’s hair.

It seemed to defy gravity, standing proudly on its ends and flaring out in all directions, coloured a vibrant pink that nearly stung her eyes. It looked to be a reflection of a lion’s mane, bushy and heavily curled, it was a far cry from her own straight and proper, metallic mane. This brazen hair made her look wild, daring, a creature that had tumbled out of the forest in hot pursuit of something worthwhile.

Her clothing, however, seemed to indicate the opposite, a contradiction. It was elegant, something the Merqueen had not expected when she though of the cave mining folk. Like many of her court, they had believed them to be constantly filthy, covered in a viscous layer of oil, grease and rock dust, so profound it would stain their very flesh like a tattoo. The merfolk had believed them to be constantly toiling away in the darkness below, building terrifying machines to aid them in harvesting the minerals and gems beneath the ground. From the stories her people would weave of the world above, she had imagined them dressed in rags of sullied cloth.

The little creature however was dressed proper and well, each article fashioned and decorated with jewels that flickered and glowed within the muted light of the room. Much of them were pink however, a generous scarf of such a hue, dripping with such gems, was wound comfortably around her neck. This addition only enhanced the mane, making it hard to differentiate where her hair began and where it ended. A burgundy cloak cascaded down her little pointy shoulders, dragging almost lethargically over the floor behind her. It was lined with a ribbon of white fur around the hem, the places closest to her shoulders also dazzled with more precious gemstones. Black trousers covered her short legs and knobby knees, whilst a white tunic covered her chest underneath the constricting corset. It was frilly, having full cuff of the lace over each wrists.

The child like face attached to this tiny body was observing her with much the same from of curiosity and dumfounded shock. At first, there had been anger, however slight, which contorted her surprisingly chubby cheeks, flushing them a heated red upon the provocation. However, it was swiftly uprooted, momentarily amazed at what she was currently looking at. 

She was looking at the former queen as if she had never seen one of her kind before.

With wonder.

Given the state of things, how merfolk had kept to them selves for centuries while the world fought in countless wars, this would not be a surprise.

Like Neela, no longer afraid for her life or having to defend it, the little imp took a second to understand what had tried to end her life. Fuchsia eyes rolled over the elongated tail, nimble fins and cutting talons. Even the flipper that had braced itself against the side of the basin.

“Marigold,” she began, her voice high pitched and slightly nasally, amazement clear as day in her tone. “what are you doing with a mermaid in your bathtub?”

“Primrose,” the centaur hissed, wheeling herself around to face the imp with a look of annoyance, her tone dripping with irritation. “I told you to wait for me in my office, did I not? At what point did I say it was full acceptable to go rummaging around in my lavatory?”

The little creature openly shrugged, looking unbothered by the hostility. She smiled almost sweetly up at the other, eyes wide and impressionable. “I saw Yesfir inside, so I thought I would to.”

The dog in question looked outraged, her ears flattened back against the sides of her skull in what looked close to vexation.

“And again, I will repeat myself,” drawled the flaxen mare, arms shifting to move behind her back. She had moved to angle her body in such a way where it was not exactly a shield, but she would be an obstacle should any try to rush the still dazed mermaid. “what gave you the permission to do so?”

The queen of dwarves cast another curious glance at the aquatic hybrid wadding idly in the medicine smelling waters. Her eyebrow hitched upwards, the wheels in her head spinning helplessly. The little thing looked nearly as flabbergasted as Neela felt. 

“Why do you have a mermaid in your bathtub?”

A glare narrowed harshly in her direction. “Answer my question, Prim.”

With an exasperated groan, eyes rolling hard and arms tossing themselves haphazardly in the air, Primrose stomped her foot for good measure. Neela herself was stunned and unsure of what to make by the display. She felt numb, and not simply because of the state of her water environment. This whole scene screamed with a certain familiarity, that these two had performed this dance before.

It was an old joke, one that was being retold again for possibly the hundredth time, stale as it was ancient.

Although the former queen severely doubted any interaction before this, even remotely, involved a mermaid sitting pretty within the confinement of the mare’s bathroom, it was still jarring. If only because it further cemented her standing as an interloper, a fresh addition to a clan that had been running strong and proud without her. 

She was a new addition.

The one who was truly guilty of interloping.

And now, with a new sense of shame, it occurred to her that she had been a hair away from killing one of its long-standing members. Out of fear and ignorance.

She was no better than the very humans she hated.

If Marigold had only arrived a few seconds later, Primrose would have been choking in a pool of her own blood, Neela looming over her to watch the life flicker out from her eyes.

There would have been three bodies to sit heavily on her conscious, not just two.

“But you didn’t answer mine!”

“You were trespassing,” came a testy reply, a long tail thrashing jerkily behind her, “we have been over this.”

The little creature rolled her eyes again, shaking her head and looked down, absentmindedly kicking some invisible object across the floor. She was pouting, notable by her cross expression she was now sporting, complete with protruding lip. 

She proceeded to whine up at the mare, like a child would its mother, hoping for acceptance, “I only wanted to take a peek, you make it sound like I’ve committed treason or something.”

An eye brow perched itself high, the Chieftain looking down at the imp that was no bigger than an average human five-year old. “Do I go rummaging around in your mountain domain when you are not present?”

Another exaggerated eye roll, the queen of Amaryllis now bouncing idly on her heels, playing uncomfortably with her hands. “No.”

“Then I except the same level of respect, Prim.”

The dwarf sighed heavily before holding her hands up in defence, looking as if to try and diffuse the situation. It was only then that Neela noted they were covered in a rather luxurious pair of black leather gloves. A magenta bracelet was secured right before the collar of ruffles on each wrist.

“Okay! Okay! Jeeze,” she groused, crossing her lanky arms tightly over her chest, “you really are a tight ass, you know that?”

“Your language Prim.” Scolded Marigold swiftly.

Yet another eyeroll. “I’m sorry.”

The towering mare shook her head and jerked it slightly towards the mermaid, whom continued to watch the entire spectacle with her mouth slightly ajar. And her heart wadding somewhere between her chest and stomach. “Not to me, to Neela.”

“Neela?” Primrose’s sparkling eyes fixated on the former queen again, her lips testing the name.

“The mermaid you startled out of a peaceful sleep.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, hands slapping loudly against her cheeks in shock, as if having entirely forgetting the who debacle.

With a sheepish giggle, she wrung out her hands under the mare’s unflinching stare. “Sorry about that.”

The Chieftain frowned and every pore of her body was absolutely leaking with disappointment. Right down to her fractious expression. She looked like a mother whom was reprimanding her own child and had the circumstances been different, Neela would have laughed. “Not half-assed, Prim. An actual apology.”

Neela blinked. She had never heard Marigold swear before.

The little dwarf looked ready to say something, but the glare Marigold was swiftly shooting her seemed to pull all the wind from her sails. All the bravado she had accumulated snuffed out by a simple change of wind direction. Looking timid, her miniature body near caving into itself, she swallowed, looking everywhere but the mermaid’s face.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” She said honestly, nudging the toe of her boot against the floor, “I didn’t mean to.”

Neela meekly nodded in response, unable to do anything else. Her mind was still floundering and uncertain by what was transpiring before her.

“Good.” Praised the blond mare, before turning herself completely back around.

In an instant, Marigold’s attention was on the Merqueen, her eyes swiftly looking over her body for any other noticeable damages to her person. Neela could not help but blush under the scrutiny. “I am so terribly sorry about all this, Neela, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?”

The water hybrid gave herself a hastily look over, swing her tail this way and that, fumbling under her lover’s concern. “No, I’m fine, really.”

An enthusiastic squeal rattled within the room, loud as it was obnoxious. “Oh, my glorious gold vein! I, fucking, knew it!”

Marigold seemed to sag forwards in irritation and whipped her head around to face the dwarf, “Language, Prim!”

The little imp would not be deterred however, clapping her hands enthusiastically together as a truly cheeky grin slit her face. It seemed to reach her pointed ears as she stared knowingly up at the golden Chieftain, eyes glinting. “I knew you wouldn’t just settle for some lowlife lacky, but a mermaid!? They own me big time back at home.”

She hooted and performed a small dance, her cloak spinning slowly behind her, its weight clearly limiting the moment. It seemed to ensnare her for a second or two, coiling like a boa would its prey, but the little urchin only continued to laugh as she pried her limbs free.

The mare rolled her eyes though Neela did take some delight in the faint dusting of a blush that was inking over her face. “Prim, this is really not the time.”

The near booming laughter that answered showed that Primrose was not really listening.

“Sooooooo,” she drawled out, finally having freed herself from her own attire, hands hidden behind her back, her eyes expectantly tracing over Marigold and then Neela. Though her posture screamed modesty, the massive grin was a dead give away towards her true feelings towards this little confrontation. “how long have you two been dating?”

Marigold’s voice was stern. “Prim.”

“What?” the little imp cried, her expression, Neela noted, extremely dynamic, “I need to know these things! I thought for sure you were just going to die alone, Sparky!”

The mermaid blinked comically. Sparky?

The Chieftain however, heaved a sigh, wheeling herself back around to face the queen of Amaryllis. “Must you call me that?”

“What is going on here?” called a voice as another figure slipped into the lavatory, at his heels, the other hounds of Marigold’s pack. All panting and sniffing and whimpering as they struggled to see what was transpiring without invading the room.

Neela, however, could feel a blush of embarrassment smothering her face upon his return and sunk deeper into the water that was now surprisingly warm to her senses. Instinctively, her arms moved to conceal her breasts, heaving only now just realized they were no doubt painfully visible through the saturated tunic.

It seemed that the universe was intent on torturing her today.

The Chieftain turned to her subordinate with an unreadable expression. “Gilford, could you please help me escort, Prim, out of the lavatory?”

The dwarf queen stomped her foot in outrage, hastily crossing her arms over her tiny chest. Almost sneering up at the centaurs that were well ten times her size. “I am perfectly capable of escorting myself out, thank you, and I will, once I get some answers.”

She paused, seeming to rethink her tactics, before taking a few steps towards Marigold. In those few strides, her hands had moved to a pleading gesture before her person, her eyes glimmering with mischief and awe. Yesfir snorted and looked curiously up at her master.

“I want to know how you two met!”

Her ravenous gaze then turned to Neela, childlike wonder flashing over her face once again, “What’s your favorite colour, your favourite food…I have a list!”

Gilford trotted up to the little dwarf, immediately driving his body between the basin and the little creature as if a wedge, using his massive from as a wall to corral her away. She backpedalled, wary no doubt of those heavy feet that could break every bone in her foot if she was not careful.

“Come along, Queen Primrose,” he intoned, his tail giving a swish, ushering her towards the awaiting wall of hounds that were watching the spectacle with rapt attention. “you have caused quite enough damage for one day.”

Despite his best efforts, and almost half of the way there, the littler queen easily snaked between his legs and back up to the basin, pressing her hands against the rim. His unfortunate limp made this dodging action easier.

“Can you at least tell me why she’s covered in scars?” she questioned suddenly and Neela felt the beginnings of sadness nipping at her sides. Instinctively, she felt her body flatten further against the bottom of the tub, her back now touching the chilled side, her chin at water level.

Primrose however, seemed unaware of the mermaid’s plight, turning a curious and playful expression up towards Marigold. “Did someone hurt her or was this just some intense love making done wrong?”

Both in question flushed and Primrose kept on talking, her sass reaching a new level, spurred on by the simultaneous reaction. “I didn’t think you the one to get so violent, Sparky.”

She winked up at the mare and the centaur stiffened in response, a firm line setting her mouth. It made Neela shiver. “Prim.”

“What?!” she shouted again, “I only want to-”

“-I will do the thing.”

Absolute silence descended into the room, as if the weight of something truly substantial had been dropped into their laps and now they had to deal with the repercussions of its arrival. Only the sounds of the dogs dared to vocalize themselves in the aftermath of what was said. They continue to observe and breathe, tongues flagging in and out from jaws rimmed with teeth. With this new yet hardly peaceful break in conversation, Neela was aware of the sounds of birds chattering through the skylight, something she had been ignorant of till now.

The queen of Amaryllis looked petrified, her pale skin turning serval shades lighter as the words echoed out in her skull. All the naughty and rambunctious behaviour was gone, tumbling meekly to her feet and in its place was a child that looked not only scandalized by the consequence, but afraid. Behind her, Gilford was grinning like a fool and it made Neela uneasy with the absolute wickedness of it.

Prim gulped and pointed an accusatory figure at the Chieftain, her voice clipped. “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

The mare took a step forward, her hooves like thunder rolling across a tranquil field. Neela could not see her face but was under the distinct impression she was smiling, looming over the little creature till her shadow blanketed her. 

“I would.”

For a second or too, no one moved.

Even the hounds had gone eerily quiet, once panting maws sealed shut as they started. Not even Yesfir dared to break this void of silence.

Then, seeming to come back to herself, Primrose groaned in frustration, tossing her arms up in the air once again, before moving briskly towards the door. The Direwolves greeted her with a chorus of sound, sniffing and probing her body with their noses as she squeezed between hulking masses of fur and muscle. Gilford dutifully shadowed her from behind, tossing a rather cantankerous look towards his Chieftain.

“Fine!” she groaned again with another over embellished eye roll, lingering within the door frame and affectively sandwiched between a black wolf and a brown one, “But we are going to talk about this later.”

It was by no means a threat, for there was no notable hostility, just annoyance. It was a promise.

Then they disappeared, as quickly as they had arrived, the door securely slamming shut behind them. All at once there was silence, but without the chilling bite of isolation. Now, there were three bodies to occupy the enclosure, bringing with them their own sound and noise, their breathing. It was peaceful again, the water gently splashing within her basin but Neela was unsure in the tranquility. If anything, this passive lull in time only further illuminated her confusion.

The former queen would not have to dwell upon it for long however, for the great blond mare was back at her side in an instant. Gently, as if the warrior feared she would break her, her hands ghosted down the sides of her face, kindly reacquiring her attention.

“Are you alright, Neela?” Her voice was heartbreakingly soft.

Neela curled into the touch despite herself, instinct driving the action, her smile soft. For the moment, her troubles were forgotten. Her arms finally choose to uncoil themselves from her chest, no longer seeing a point in covering herself up.

If anything, she wanted the stoic mare to look, for as long and hard as she wanted.

“I’m fine. Nothing broken.”

“I am terribly sorry,” the mare said, looking quite cross with herself, her tail giving another agitated swish behind her, “I often forget she had no concept of limitations.” She paused, squaring her jaw before adding, “Nor boundaries.”

Neela pushed herself closer when the hand moved to sweep away her low hanging bangs, looking up at her protector with an understanding grin, “I can see why Gilford gets so agitated.”

As if on cue, there was the sound of something breaking beyond the door and said stallion snapping sourly but a second later, though his voice was muffled. However, its baritone hum and critical snip assured all three that it was in fact him, there was simply no denying it. The hounds outside the door yelped and padded nervously around, claws tip-tapping across stone and wood. 

Yesfir let loose a small yip in response, ears open and pressed forward, as if to give her own two-cents.

Marigold sighed again, her heavy sides looking as if they had simply collapsed under the strain, caving in on her squishing insides. Neela casted her a pained expression, ill at ease in the wake of her lover looking so worn down. However, it lingered for only a moment, the Chieftain straightening herself out with a small shake that ruffled her draped blanket. For a moment, the mermaid was given a peek at the lacerations that lingers just beneath the cover.

“I will be back to see you after I finish with Primrose.” She began, her voice still light, her thumb swiping away something that had clung to the water hybrid’s cheek, “She still has to explain herself.”

The idea of her mare leaving again, after only just returning, made the former queen’s heart dip low in her chest. Dismally, her hands bracing soundlessly against the edge of the basin, she asked, “Do you have to?”

Her tone was but a quiver and although it had not been her intention, both the mare and the hound flinched at the sound. Though notably, it was the proud equine mix that seemed to falter the strongest. 

With a somber nod, the mare retracted her hand and used both to scoop up the lingering paws on the basin’s edge, holding them as if they were precious. Neela reveled in the touch of her lover, how those calloused yet slender fingers seemed to stroke her skin with a kindness that seemed too much and yet so little. “I am afraid so, but this will be for the last time.”

This admission was coupled with a kiss, short yet sweet, right on the backs on her knuckles, which she raised to her face to complete the action. Water snaked down the mermaid’s arms, helpless to gravity, dropping in beads from her elbows and Neela shivered with want. Those stunning yellow eyes, a pair of smoldering suns, looking down over the enclosed hands with notable affection, her thumbs rubbing absentmindedly across the protruding bones. It caused a bizarre confliction of emotions within the mermaid, unfathomable yearning most notably, however, there was also a bitter tinge of sadness.

Again, those feelings came back to her, slithering at the fringes of her mind, that lonely consideration that had nearly drowned her before. The sensation of being undeserving of such bottomless, evident affection.

“Before I do, however,” Marigold began, releasing her grip of the mermaid’s hands to gingerly stroke the surface of the water below, “let me change this for you.”

It was several hours before shimmering Chieftain of centaurs returned to the lavatory; prominent exhaustion noticeable in every step she took as the mare crossed the room. She looked tired and run down, her usually high foot steps almost dragging against the floor. All at once, her body seemed older than what it really was and it broke the former queen’s heart to see it only a shadow of its former self. Sadden by her exhaustion, the mermaid was still pleased to have her lover return, however, if not only for the company, then most assuredly to get her out of the tub.

After having occupied it for an entire day, the mermaid was eager to be anywhere else. Especially if it meant being swaddled into the protective, loving arms of her majestic looking centaur.

Though they were only a wall away this time, Neela had only heard murmurs of the discussion between the two rulers, as well as some obvious sounds of irritation. However, any information that could have been privy to her was kept from her tentative ears. Wordless sounds, such as the hounds moving idly in the wake of the heated conversation were more than apparent to her, as well as the occasional awkward gait of Gilford as he prowled the room. His limp seemed to be causing him a great deal of discomfort today, the delay in his stride was more than what she could remember.

It was almost as if the weight of the discussion, whatever it was, was sitting heavy and uncomfortable on his equine back, visibly slowing him in his mindless pacing.

With Yesfir still her indomitable company and guardian, the mermaid chose to mirror the Direwolf’s example. Arms crossed over the rim of the basin, chin balanced on the sleek sides of her interlocked arms, Neela stared at the door. In another respite of silence, their breathing and the noises beyond the door the only things to break it, they sat and waited. Nothing was exchanged, although Neela would steal a moment or two to stroke that soft white pelt and scratch a refined ear. Beyond this however, they were as still and patient as statues.

Despite this fact, the water still a comforting caress across her flesh, the mermaid was happy to at least know that her lover was within shouting distance. The gap between them nothing at all like it had been through the majority of the day. It was comforting to know the mare was nearby and listening, even if she was occupied. 

What did concern the water hybrid however, even if not for the barest of moments, was how Marigold had not informed the dwarf queen of her former title. The centaur had taken steps to avoid the mater, something that had only now sunk into her mind as she sat and waiting in steaming waters. 

Her mind, however, before it could dwell further into the conundrum, quickly assured her it was most likely for the best. It would have only created more confusion to an already chaotic circumstance and provoke Primrose to grapple for more answers. The mare knew the subject was tender, a wound that would most likely never heal and was giving the former queen the opportunity to decide how to proceed. 

She was giving Neela the chance to not only voice the situation herself, to ultimate decide if it was worth telling, or to simply let it crumble away into dust. To start over as something new and let the past stay as such.

The Chieftain most likely considered the subject to be none of her business and would follow willingly with whatever the chosen outcome was. Both unquestioning and certain in the finality of the choice, the catalyst however, was to be executed by Neela’s hand alone.

That in itself, made the promise of tears prickle and burn in the corners of her regal eyes, the mermaid’s heart squishing pleasantly within her chest as it swooned and gushed. Once again, the proud leader was looking out for her, attempting to shield her from embarrassment and ridicule.

To lose one’s standing as leader was by far one of the biggest insults to ever befall a ruler, no matter the species. To be tossed aside by your own people, the servants that proclaimed their life and death to their chosen ruler, was a scar that oozed with shame and incompetence. Although it was not truly certain if Primrose would have responded cruelty to the news, the creature looking far too innocent and young for such a bitter adult idiosyncrasy, the situation was still avoided.

And Neela was beyond grateful.

Although it was entirely possible that Primrose, through sheer word of mouth through the centaur ranks, would come to find the truth eventually, it would give Neela time to come to terms with her new standing. Heal and find a way to best express her position to another creature she had once stood on equal footing to. 

Now stripped of her crown, court having tossed her aside, she was a lone outsider within a herd of land walkers. Now, although Primrose was simply a child taking the mantle of ruler, the little creature far outranked her.

That was something to consider.

Wagging her tail, the muscles feeling better than they had in years, Neela beamed up at the centaur on her gradual approach. “How did it go?”

While much of her day had been miserable, lingering within the unrelenting tide of her own guilty consciousness, the presence of Marigold physically and mentally reassured her. It promised not only the end of a terribly long day, but vowed to keep the loneliness from creeping back up again. At least until the dawn of a new day, or the moment when Marigold would be pulled from her side again, the dismay haunting of her own self-hatred would be subdued.

All at once, the mermaid found herself excited again, eager to crawl into her lover’s embrace and snuggle into a warmth and protection that would be freely and generously offered to her.

The mare shrugged weakly, her eyes distant, thinking. “About as well as I could have imagined.”

This made the mermaid’s heart sink a little, bobbing with uncertainty within these new waters. The idea that it was nothing but bad news, flittered into her mind and yet again, she was reminded of the bodies currently resting on her forsaken soul. 

Tentatively, she braced her hands on the side of the basin, long talons clicking against the stone. “What did she say?”

The centaur moved to crouch before her, her knees hitting the ground with a considerable weight and strength. She visibly grunted with the effort and Neela could only imagine that her poor lover had been on her feet all day. From this position however, they were once again at eye level, which meant to the mermaid’s delight that she would not have to crane her neck upwards to peer into those breath-taking eyes. 

Marigold seemed to consider her words carefully, tasting them before vocalizing them. Although there was familiarity in the action, it still caused a wave of insecurity to crash within Neela’s heart. 

“She said something truly troubling,” the blonde began, mulling over her words again, a stony expression settling her face. 

The way it resolved was oddly final, the guillotine pulled back to its daunting height, a hair away from splitting air and meat and bone. It caused a terrifying shiver to ripple down the mermaid’s spine.

“Blanka has been seen.”

Like a rock through a window, the glass splintering under the force and clattering onto the floor with cataclysmic devastation, it felt as if the world was buckling under the statement. 

For a second or too, it took some level of convincing for the former queen to draw breath, her mind’s eye imaging a beast whose wingspan most assuredly would blot out the sun before she took to the skies. The devil readying itself for a night of soul gathering, anxious to devour all it could in order to satisfy a bottomless hunger. In her imagination, Blanka was a monster that took and knew nothing of giving, unless it involved giving all in her presence the relief of death at her considerable talons.

A perverse smile full of teeth tore through her mind like a knife, splinting it wide to reveal rows and rows of gleaming pearls that were tinged pink. Residue of all the bodies she had taken into her mouth, the bones she had sucked dry and the blood she had shed across stone and rock.

Neela swallowed hard, her lung struggling to take in a steady amount of air, ill-at ease in her lover’s worry. “Seen where?”

That beautiful face twisted into a snarl, her tail lashing out behind her with considerable anger. “Within some of the neighbouring human villages some riding distance of Amaryllis.”

The mermaid found her heart fluttering uneasily within the confession, fraught to understand the sudden hostility. If the harpy was indeed venturing into human territory, why stop her? As far as the former queen was concerned, if Blanka was keen of consuming human flesh, let her. It was one less enemy in the end for them to face, she doing them a service rather than an insult. 

Yet Marigold’s reaction seemed to say otherwise, which in turn prompted the mermaid to reconsider her initial response.

“Is this a bad thing?” came her sheepish reply, immediately furious at how timid she sounded.

How unsure she sounded.

How new and fresh to this able-bodied machine of a tribe she sounded.

The golden mare hummed softly in reflection, her brows still furrowed and tight. “It would not be, if she was killing the humans, but that does not seem to be the case.”

So, there was her answer, but it did not bring the satisfaction she wanted nor required. In fact, it only continued to drown her thoughts in uncertainty, doubt and frustration. Neela felt as if she was freefalling into a darkened pit, falling her arms for something, anything to latch on to.

“Primrose is under the impression, that Blanka is conversing with them.” The mare finished solemnly, her arms crossing behind her back, that general like façade slipping over her face again.

With this new revelation exposed to the open air between them, Neela felt as if she had been slapped.

The very idea that another mythical beast was willingly engaging with the humans was odious and revolting, shocking as it was appalling. 

While Blanka was not a friend to many, if any, it was not uncommon for some mythical beasts to prefer solitude over a diverse social game. Many did eat each other, but were unbiased in their hunt and only did so in the name of nourishment. Wendigos were only one such creature that followed this routine. Although there was the thrill of the hunt, it was simply that, a rush that promised food and a full belly till the need to hunt again arose. For the most part, Blanka kept to herself and had abided by this unspoken rule, though it was no secret that she often killed in the name of pleasure. Though she prompted conflicts and sparked the rumor mill to turn, it was all hearsay and floundered within the realm of acceptance. 

She danced over the line but never crossed it.

But now, if this was all true, the line had been desecrated and tarnished.

To betray her own kind for a species that was defined solely by greed and shameless killing was unthinkable. By choosing them, she was turning her back on the very beasts that had been hunted for reasons that tapered into stupidity and sheer ignorance. For thousands of years. The Empress of all Harpies desired an audience with those that would rather see her own kind rotting on a pike, than deal with those who would have accepted her help. Should she had ever felt so inclined to offer it.

Then again, the mermaid remained herself, thinking of the two messengers she had sent to Blanka all those months ago. Perhaps she found some level of acceptance within the stain that was humanity. Perhaps when she looked at them, she saw herself, flattered and elated on a high of finding another who wishes to consume and take rather than share and protect. It was quite possible that her reasons for isolation, in the first place, was simply founded on the idea that she had never shared an interest in their methodology. After all, she killed anything that dared to wander to her mountain peak and if Marigold was right about Talbot, slaughtered anything that could or would oppose her.

Or threatened her all-powerful reign with a strength equal, if not greater, than her own.

By that consideration however, humanity fickle as they were driven by inconsolable fear, what was to stop them from turning on her?

What guaranteed their services to her if this was in fact real?

What made them more appealing as companions then her other mythical brethren?

But perhaps the bigger question, if this was truly all a game to her, how long before Blanka turned her claws on them in some pointless and unprompted surge of violence?

“Why?” was all Neela could utter, her mind in tatters as it tried to chase some form of rhyme or reason.

To understand the sheer devastation of this betrayal.

Blanka was a force to be reckoned with, a monster that made even the mightiest of warriors pause, no mater the species. Neela had heard she had killed a dragon, several in fact, all varying in size and shape and species of the great lizard. And again, if the Chieftain was correct, Blanka was responsible for the greatest kill of all, the demise of the most powerful dragon and the reason for the escalation in resulting conflicts hereafter.

Talbot.

The former queen could barely restrain a raw shiver that threatened to shake her violently apart.

Marigold shook her head, having none to offer, weariness seeping into her tone. “She is unsure.”

She took a moment’s pause, her arms moving to cross below her chest this time. Though the black vest cupped her bosom rather nicely, the added support of her arms allowed them to perch. The mermaid tried to not let her gaze linger there for too long. “Primrose did mention however, that every time Blanka would leave, she would be carrying a troves worth of gold and jewels in her claws.”

Neela frowned, thinking the information over. 

Was that really it? Gold, treasure and glimmering trinkets to decorate the walls of her blood and bone mottled nesting grounds. Is that all they were worth to her? Could it have really been as simple as that?

The very idea had the former queen seething.

Traded for coin.

Blanka really was no better than the humans she now adored.

But the question still remained, why? Why now?

The mermaid brushed her bangs to the side, deciding to vocalize her question, “They are giving these to her or is she taking them?”

“They were given to her.”

Neela grimaced and sunk into the water some, unsure as to what all of this information meant. She knew they were missing something, the pieces that would ultimately pierce the darkness away and reveal the motive behind it all. Until then, they were wandering blind. 

“What does this mean?”

Marigold shifted her weight some, so that her mass was slightly leaning over to one side. This made her legs move out to better balance her weight, showing only a sliver of the scars that danced and weaved up her equine legs in the muted candle light.

“One of two things.” She began, “One, she is now demanding money in exchange for their mortal lives which would not be beyond the scope of her arrogance.” She spat that last part out, as if the taste of the words alone was repulsive to her sensibilities, “Two, and possibly the most disturbing, they are paying her to do something.”

That statement did not sit well in Neela’s stomach, a chill coursing down her spine. Worriedly, her asked, her voice a choked whisper, “To do what?”

Again, the mare could only shake her head, looking unpleased by the answer she would offer, “Primrose is unsure, but I have asked that she monitor the situation and inform me of any changes in the harpy’s behaviour.”

A pregnant pause, her molten eyes swirling with something Neela could not define, “All we can do now, is wait.”

The very notion that the eccentric dwarf queen, whom seemed to move to the beat of her own drum, would easily comply with something Marigold offered seemed farfetched. 

“Did she agree?”

The mare looked away, her gaze tumbling around on everything that was not her lover, a faint dusting of a blush on her face. There was notable reluctance as she forced the words from her mouth. “Only with some incentive.”

A stone of panic sat unpleasantly in the pit of the mermaid’s stomach, threatening to tear right through the soft vulnerable mess. She fought the urge to curl into herself, not terrified, but wary. Though she knew nothing of Primrose beyond there surprised meeting, Neela knew any form of hostility was non-existent. Centaurs and dwarves were companions, brothers in arms, so anything malice driven was thankfully not even an afterthought. 

What caused the uneasy churning in her stomach was the little imp’s mischievous nature, the cunning and childlike want that flared so hotly across those magenta eyes. 

Primrose liked to stoke the fires, if only for her own merriment which was normal considering her youth. All children liked to push the bonders, its how they figured out where they stood, how much wiggle room they had to navigate. Where they could tread blindly and where they needed to watch where they stepped.

The root of the issue really, if Neela was honest with herself, was how the agreement had been accepted and what her lover had to offered in return.

She swallowed, the hook of her flipper scratching the bottom of the basin. “What was the incentive?”

Marigold frowned and fidgeted, her fingers tightening their grip into her forearms, as if resisting the urge to fiddle with them. This behaviour only seemed to elevate the mermaid’s apprehension and as a result, that pebble of anxiety had grown into a fist sized stone. 

“I would really rather not talk about it.” The blond centaur admitted softly, her blush intensifying, her body suddenly too big and too small.

“Should I be worried?” Came a nervous reply, her mouth surprisingly dry despite the rest of her.

All at once, the mare seemed to come back to herself, shock flashing across her features before settling into something uniquely soft. The raw honesty of it seemed to splinter that hefty weight in the pit of the former queen’s stomach, her worries suddenly nothing more than static. 

“No,” she seemed to promise, a hand reaching out and without hesitation, Neela was quick to take it. The blond rubbed her thumb over the knuckles, her eyes alight with something, “you should not.”

Carefully, after draining the tub, Neela was pulled from its confines and hoisted onto a sturdy and unyielding equine back. To stabilize herself, afraid of toppling over, the mermaid was quick to latch her arms around the other’s torso, the breasts of her lover hovering just a hair above where they had locked. Her flipper extended to help her endeavours, the hook snarling on the blanket, never with enough strength to tear the fabric, but enough to hold her body steady.

Water rolled down her vibrant scales and across the dark brown cover the mare bore, soaking it as the snakes of water slithered down her sides. In its absence, the mermaid shivered, cold and immediately desperate for some manner of warmth to fight away the chill that was crawling under her skin.

Burying her face between the prominent shoulder blades, her own bosom pressed into Marigold’s back, the mermaid smiled at the shiver and gasp that the touch had forced out of her lover. It made her fins fan outward for a distinct moment, more than happy to be this close to the mare again. It was only once the Chieftain was sure Neela had a good grip did she advance towards the door, Yesfir shadowing closely behind.

Neela only dared to pull her face away to spare a haphazard glance around the main room of the centaur’s house, half expecting to see Primrose bouncing happily on the slouching chairs, a manic grin in place. To her surprise, the little imp was nowhere to be seen, only the other members of Marigold’s pack trotted up to great them. A swarm of fur and teeth, they brushed and licked and pawed at Yesfir, whom they had not seen the whole day. Estatic, as if she had been missing for years, they flanked her from every side, the shrill whines and yelps almost muffled out by the panting. They nipped at each other playfully as Marigold moved without hesitation, strength and power in her gait.

The former queen could only assume the little dwarf had been sent away for the night till they could resume their conversation tomorrow. To what ends and what could be further discussed, the sea dweller was unsure.

Neela wondered if she could be privy to such an occurrence, anything to see more than just a four walled enclosure. The former queen did not think she could tolerate another day of isolation, swimming no where in a tub that forced her to rethink all the nasty unsaid terrors that haunted her mind.

She could not bare to do down that rabbit hole again.

More so, she wished to see more of the little dwarf, confused yet enchanted by the imp.

‘I thought for sure you were just going to die alone, Sparky!’

She would most certainly have to enquire about that.

As they crossed the threshold, the Direwolves following steadily behind, Neela took note of the large grey towel stretched across the floor, right before the bed. Several others, all the same saturation of grey, were neatly folded at the side, a tower of softness that begged to be touched. 

Marigold only turned around to shut the door behind her, pausing to let the horde of hound funnel in before shutting the seal. Sniffing and panting, they moved for their bed, shuffling and brushing against one another as they assess who would lay down first. Some pawed at the furs, others merely twirled in place before flopping down in a heap. Others could only chase another in blind abandonment.

It was a mess of furred beasts attempting to get cozy, a plan that had no rhyme nor reason, only movement and sound. It made Neela laugh as Yesfir hastily pushed a smaller wolf out of her way, taking her rightful spot in the center of the furred bedding. Her muzzle seemed to question any to challenge her claim. 

None did.

As they attempted to settle, eventually following the head alpha’s lead, the centaur moved towards the generous towel with purpose. At its edge, she urged Neela to brace herself, gradually lowering her bulk of muscle and bone to the floor. With some aid, the mare helped the mermaid slide carefully off her broad back and onto the soft texture of the towel. With the use of her good flipper, the action was easier than the mermaid had originally expected, now able to balance her body without need of something to prop her upright.

It seemed that her length of time in the bath had done more than simply tend to her wounds, it had allowed her to compensate for her lack of fin. Although a rogue breeze could have enough strength to effectively knock her on her side, for now, Neela was able to ad least sit upright and that made her heart flutter with pride. 

The Chieftain seemed pleased as well, smiled softly at her before moving to stand, heavy hooves carrying her body to her dresser.

Getting the message, the ocean dweller set to work, pulling the offered towel over her body to start the long process of drying it off. 

She was surprised to see that ugly scab that had been growing across her hip had fallen off, revealing a large pink blemish across her hip. It looked raw and delicate; the smallest provocation capable of tearing it asunder and prodding it to bleed. Yet, despite all that, it looked clean of infection, a wound that would finally have a chance to heal properly. However, Neela did not need to be told that this one, unlike the others across her body, would most likely mar her forever. This would be a mark hat would follow her till her death and nothing on this earth was going to change that.

Gently, she as she stroked the ridge of the laceration, mindful of her own sharp talons, the mermaid decided to best leave it alone. Although it did bother her it would never heal properly, it was not lost on her that things could have been a lot worse. She could have suffered more than some scars and a lost more than a fin. Her court could have very well taken her life and if they had, she would never have found her way into the arms of the creature she craved more than anything else.

Towelling her body off, mindful of her displaying fins, Neela stole quick glances at her lover. While she worked, Marigold had started to undress and the very notion had blood coursing hotly through her fins and face. 

However, it was evidently clear that Marigold was attempting to hide much of the act from her, her chosen position only allowing her back and rear to be visible to the mermaid. Her hurried movements were also a side of her unrest, eager to finish and display caused a bubble of regret and sorrow to bloom in the pit of Merqueen’s stomach. The shadows of night made the transition easier, the darkness helping to hide much from her current location on the floor. The simple candles stationed by the centaur crafted vanity only mutely showed the carnage endured across her equine flank. They stroked glowing marks across her features but not enough to truly see what the centaur was hiding.

Desperately, Neela wished she could see it all, at close range and without fear of scaring her lover away. 

It seemed however, that their relationship was much to fresh for such trust. The Merqueen reconciled, as she moved to dry the fins on her other side, that she would just have to work harder in order to achieve it. Hastily, the ocean dweller took one of the folded towels from the pile and moved to dry off her hair, feeling it settle wet and heavy against her back.

By the time Marigold had finished, a tanned blanket and matching tunic on her person, the dogs had finally settled into a massive heap of fur and fangs and teeth. Many had dozed off, nuzzling into the warm bodies of their packmates. Others still seemed to drift sloppily between worlds, half in a dream, half awake, not ready to commit. Yesfir whimpered as she huffed, a content smile stretched across her jowls.

Neela was pleased to say she was both ready and eager for bed, her body devoid of any water, her fins fluttering weightlessly as Marigold moved to crouch before her. 

In her hands however, was a new tunic, this one a rich violet, and immediately Neela blushed under the gesture. Being so used to her wet clothes, the aquatic hybrid had completely forgotten about the know skin tight garment hugging her torso. Her nipples, perked and cold, effortlessly pulled at the material, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

Still, with Gilford no longer present, she felt her fins rattle with excitement, especially when she noted the mimicked colour smearing across the blonde’s face.

A small part of her rumbled in pleasure, a coil of heat blooming in the pit of her stomach.

In her other hand was something Neela had never seen before. A small leather pouch that looked not only well loved but well worn, frayed and patched up in several places. The little red cross on the front assured her immediately of one thing and she smiled happily up at her lover. Her beautiful mare was going to treat her wounds.

The idea of having the attention lavished upon her person did nothing to abate the growing heat that was steadily moving down towards her pelvis.

After making herself comfortable, her equine knees only just touching the boarder of the towel, the Chieftain sheepishly let the new tunic rest on the ground beside her. 

Taking a deep breath, as if to center herself, she gestured to lift up the soaking tunic, “I will need to rebandaged some of your wounds. The one on your hip most assuredly.”

Neela smiled with adoration and moved to relief herself of the sopping tunic, letting it flop to the floor in a wet puddle. Immediately, the mermaid was delighted by the darkened flush that had moved down the mare’s neck and across her collarbone. The blond swallowed and moved her gaze erratically around the room, flusters as she was nervous. They rolled everywhere but where Neela wanted them to go and it pleased her soul more than it should of. 

With the long tunic gone, the absence of it did more than just reveal her breasts. It exposed her completely. At the junction of where her human hips met aquatic tail, below the spot where her belly ended, was her reproductive slit. As it was now, it was merely a line that cut down her vertically, hard scales a fence around it. Aroused, those hard scales would soften, allowing them to pull back, as blood would engorge the tissues hidden just behind the slit.

A park of pleasure thrummed within her core as those eyes briefly skimmed over her body, taking into consideration the most secret part of her. The mare flushed deeper in response, almost curling backward in embarrassment, her skin almost cherry in colour. That spark smoldered and she fought the urge to purr and lunge.

Something feral whispered within the darkest pit of her subconsciousness, famished as it was enchanted by their chosen mate’s behaviour. Aroused into awakening by the pulse of her own need.

This beautiful creature was hers.

“You can look you know,” the ocean dweller assured sweetly, reaching out to take hold of the hand that was empty, “you of all people should know that you hold every right too.”

Only this stunning creature could ever see her this raw. No one else had the right and by that same omission, the same could be said the other way around. When the mare was finally ready to show herself to her, Neela would be sure that it was to her exclusively. She wanted to see the most secret parts of her and reward her generously for her efforts.

Marigold fumbled around for another moment, her brain struggling to right itself. The former queen watched on, smitten, pleased that her body instilled such a reaction from the other. Then a moment later, the mare came back to herself, though her cheeks were still stained in red.

“I am sorry it came to this.” Came her soft reply, eyes coming to rest on the one place Neela wished would no longer pain lover pain. 

Her missing fin.

Like a knife through a carcass, her budding arousal was cut short and, in its place, sadness gushed through to pick up the pieces.

The mermaid stroked her fingers over the mare’s battle-scarred hands, thumbing the knuckles that, by the feel of it, had been broken several times. “Please don’t let it trouble you anymore.” She pleaded, suddenly feeling small, “It hurts to see you like this.”

“I could say the same for you.” She countered, teething on something, eyes hardening, “But I will fix it, one way or another.”

The determination, the resolve in her tone, had the mermaid’s heart fluttering haphazardly within her chest. It was high off something, either the absolution or conviction in the mare’s statement. Whichever one it was, or perhaps both, it made the Merqueen want to embrace her and never let go.

Not a word was exchanged between them as Marigold set to the task, pulling the necessary items from the small pouch and laying them in order of necessity on the ground before her. It was meticulous and planned out, her fingers steady as they were eager, feathers light as they worked, barely a sensation across her elongated body. With precision, Marigold used sharpened instruments to cut away what little of infection had been left behind, careful as she was gentle. Besides the occasion pin-prick of pain, Neela was content in the peace that was laid bare between them. 

Once each wound was properly cleaned, the mare applied generous amounts of ointment and medical spices to those lacerations in the direst need of them. The one on her hip most assuredly. Many of her wounds did not require this level of care, which she was grateful for. It meant that her body was healing the way it should. 

Finally, the sound of snoring hound echoing softly out beside them, the blond concluded the exercise by wrapping coils of fresh gauze around both her hip and mutilated limb. Once finished, the mare took a moment to look over her work, golden eyes scanning the bandages for weakness or flaw. Finding none, she turned her attention to the new tunic, once again, extending the offering to the mermaid with a renewed blush. 

Though Neela would have loved nothing more than to pressed herself against the strong body of her lover, to feel the expanse of fur and skin across the raw nakedness of her own flesh and scales, she did not resist. A sudden wave of lethargy had struck her and, in the moment, she was ready and willing for sleep. With sluggish movements, she elegantly slipped it up and over her head, content to smell her lover’s scent lingers within the fibers. It was fairly large on her, just as the other had been and the knowledge of that sparked the beginnings of arousal within her core. 

Once all was done, the Chieftain pulled something new from the pouch, a note book lined with parchment paper and a pencil, as well as some measuring ribbon. The Merqueen felt her heart stutter to a halt, faltering in some desperate beats before threatening to burst. The beginnings of tears promised to harsh her yet again.

Face etched in stone, determined, Marigold’s golden eyes locked with the sparkling blues of the mermaid. “I will need the good one, Neela, only for a little while.”

Neela nodded hastily, urgently fighting back the tears as she braced herself. Mindful of her balance, her heart frantic in the waves of her emotion, she extended her good fin as far as she could without being in danger of toppling over. The mare nodded and set to work, her pencil a blur of movement as it sketched out circles and lines and shapes.

The mermaid watched her work in wonder, at a loss for what to say, or even what to do. She could only stare and marvel, the centaur not only roughing out her fin but how it functioned and moved in correlation to her elbow and shoulder. Complicated numbers and equations started to fill the empty space around the illustration, each scribble and line enhancing the shape and even texture of her flipper and hook. The mare made another drawing next to it, plotting out the joints and how they moved, their limits of articulation from what she had seen.

Once finished, Marigold stuffed the remaining medical supplies back into the pouch and stood, trotting over to her vanity to place both items on its surface before returning to Neela’s side. The mermaid nearly choked on a sob as the mare once again lined herself up, assisting the ocean dweller in mounting her back. The Merqueen nuzzled into the short mane of golden locks, afraid to speak, afraid to utter a word in fear what little restraint she had would crumble into dust.

She could only just keep her tears at bay.

Carefully, Marigold lifted herself up for the last time that evening, moving with purpose towards the bed, its sweet warmth and caress beckoning her name. Together, they curled into the bed of furs, chest to chest, a mermaid tail draped over the expanse of an equine back. Neela buried her face in the offered neck, sparing a ghost of a kiss across the scar that cut horizontally across the mare’s jugular, a weight resting uncomfortably on her soul.

She loved this creature with everything she had, so much so that it hurt.

She did not deserve this creature, not with how she had won her over.

Her subordinates flashed before her vision, nails, long and deep, rusted and scabbed, stabbing painfully through her heart. It bled in the pain, withered and rejoiced, ecstatic to finally be in the arms of the creature it adored more than anything.

At her sob, the first tears spilling from her eyes, the Chieftain stiffened and held her tighter, whispering sweet nothings into her long silver mane. The gentle offers, verbal aftercare towards her panicked soul made it mend and break all at the same time. They were apologies, the female thinking she had offended her. Out of desperation, the Merqueen flung her flipper over the mare’s hip, latching on with her hook, pulling herself closer to the body that would ultimately be her undoing.

Marigold hummed and leaned down, brushing her lips tentatively against her own, asking, never demanding. Neela responded with vigor, pouring all she had into the union, tears soaking her cheeks. When the need to breath proved too much, her lungs clutching painfully alongside her heart, the mermaid buried her face in the crock of the mare’s neck. The Chieftain held her close, rubbing her back as she whispered tender apologizes into her ears.

These would be the last things Neela would hear till sleep ultimately took her, preying on the emotional exhaustion the day had reaped upon her wounded soul. Upon its arrival however, a shadow that saturated her world in a sea of black and nothingness, a sense of righteous resolution trickled within the furthest reaches of her mind.

She would be judged when her time was through, she knew this. She promised herself she would never allow herself to forget and she would not. They were gone and she was here. They did not get there happily ever after, but she was given a shot at one. 

Did she deserve it?

No, not even close.

But the least she could do, was enjoy what she had been given.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Hello everyone!!! I live!!! I did not die and this story has not been abandoned! Woot! I, however, very much want to sincerely apologies to everyone for the extremely long wait, as well as, the crazy delay. Work is killing me, pure and simple and unfortunately, it had been the main reason for the disturbing gap in my updates. Unfortunately, this will be the norm now, because my schedule is all over the map. However, please be assured that this story will continue and it has not been abandoned. There is a lot to unpack here and Pink Diamond has finally made an appearance! I very much like the idea of a smooth talking and mischievous kid who likes to stir up things but generally has a good heart and is eager to help in any situation. She just wants Marigold to hang out with her really. I am very excited to finally introduce her and she will be present for a few more chapters. Blanka is also quickly approaching. Brace yourselves.

Also, as an extra and as promised, a drawing of both Marigold and Neela! Please excuse my horrible drawing, I am terrible at anything remotely concerning the human figure. Despite this, I hope it helps with not only picturing how they look, but also Neela's displaying fins. This picture is before Neela's injuries and if you all would like, I can update this picture to show the damage that Neela sustained in the confrontation with her court. I will also include, as they appear, pictures of both Primrose and of course Blanka. Again, please excuse my drawing as it is probably not the best.

I hope you liked this latest installment and that it was worth the wait. Thanks again for hanging out this long, you guys are awesome! Please ignore the spelling mistakes, I will deal with them later.


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